Title: “Of Silver Hair and Elflings”

Author: Fan81981

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the LOTR characters. Did you really think I did?

Rating: G

Summary: We all know that Thranduil has a fondness for jewels. Ever wondered how that all started? You see its all Celeborn’s fault …

Author’s Note:

I think a little explanation is in order before I actually start the fic. For those who do not know, Oropher is Thranduil’s father. We have no clue who his mother was, so in my universe she is a Nandor elf called Mîrdû. Trust me it makes a difference for the other (and much longer) Oropher fic I have planned.

Now comes the part in which I have taken liberties with the Great One’s universe and added some of my own pieces to the blanks:

Oropher is the brother-in-law of Galathil, Celeborn’s brother. I liked the idea of Oropher and Celeborn being related but I didn’t want to do it by blood. I thought that would be pushing it since I would have to make Oropher a descendant of Thingol. (On the plus side – I have something planned which hinges on a connection by marriage - *grin*)

For those of you who really don’t care – all you need to know is that Oropher and Celeborn know each other really well. For the purpose of this fic assume that they are good friends – I will give their background later.

I presumed that Thranduil was born about 5 years before the first sack of Doriath – which means First Age 500 (nice round number). That makes him older than Elrond for those of you who are interested (*big grin*). I am not sure about this but that makes him as old as Elwing (Elrond’s mother).

One last thing:

I really try to keep politics out of my fics but somehow it always creeps in. If that happens again and it jars the tone of the fluff, please, PLEASE tell me so. This is my first attempt at a cute Elfling vignette so I want to do well.

A warm thank you to Nilmandra who read over this fic and once again helped me improve it a lot (i.e. its ALL her fault). Thank you so much.

 x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

The night was cold and dark – the perfect night to stay at home and curl up in front of a fire with a loved one. The sky rumbled ominously but the threatened rain never fell. The elves of Doriath felt the storm rage outside and thanked the Valar that they were inside, at home.

That is – all except one elf.

Mîrdû calmed her breathing as another spasm passed through her. Childbearing was definitely overrated. One child was more than enough she decided. She was not going to go through this again.

It was not the pain per se that bothered her so much. She was willing to bear that for her child. After all, she had chosen to become pregnant, why should she not now suffer the consequences of her choice? No, what bothered her was her husband.

To put it bluntly, Oropher was a nervous wreck. His concern over his wife and child was distracting her, which made him even more worried, which in turn fed right back to her. She had finally kicked him out of the room until he could compose himself.

She loved him but he could be so … male sometimes. She could do this – she knew it. She could bring their child into this world. All she needed was a little time. It was just that the baby was stubborn – just like its father. He or she was not making this easy for her. But Mîrdû was Nandor, a fighter. She was not about to let anyone defeat her – not even her own child.

She calmed her breathing, and concentrating on reaching Oropher, //This child will have your strength, meleth nín. ~*

Oropher felt Mîrdû’s feä struggle and dip alarmingly as the child protested his mother’s inattention. Somehow, she managed to give it even more of her spirit and hold it to this world. Oropher wondered how she was managing to do so much at one time. His wife was amazing.

Oropher paled as Mîrdû drew strength from him for their child. “I should be in there with her.”

The elf sitting next to the distraught father-to-be raised an elegant eyebrow and said, “She already kicked you out once. You are braver than I thought if you are willing to suffer the same treatment again.”

“She needs me. I am the father.”

“No one denies that – but you are also not the most soothing person to have around. I have never known an elf to fidget before you. No wonder Mîrdû decided it was best you wait in the hall.”

“Shame on you, Celeborn. I thought you would be taking my side.”

“I am taking your side. You are close enough for Mîrdû to draw from you but far enough not to irritate her. Despite her incapacitation she could still beat a lot of sense into you, if she so wished. I did not think you wanted that.”

“I am not afraid.”

“You should be – I am of my wife,” said Celeborn mischievously, trying to distract Oropher from the pain he must be feeling right now.

“I am not afraid of wife. She loves me,” Oropher repeated stubbornly.

“Of course she does. Nevertheless, all rational elves are scared of their wives. They know too much about them. Besides, I did not see you display a lot of nerve when Mîrdû ordered you out. I have never seen you give in so easily – you must be learning.”

Oropher chuckled, his anger leaving him as quickly as it had come. “This is a extra-ordinary situation.”

Celeborn nodded, hearing the tenderness and love behind those dry words. Oropher had left because Mîrdû had wanted him too. It was that simple, and that complicated all at the same time. “There is hope for you yet, mellon nín.”

Oropher smiled automatically, not really paying attention to what Celeborn was saying. Even if he had not been so distracted with the birth he probably would have only given Celeborn half an ear. He had known him for too long to take offence at anything he said. The best thing was to ignore the Sindar elf. Being wise and practical in council created some sort of pressure in his brain – idiocy that fought valiantly to escape. As his friend, how could Oropher deny him that relief?

“Have you heard anything I have said?” Celeborn demanded with some asperity.

Oropher focused on the grey eyes, noticing the annoyed expression in them, “Do I ever listen to anything you have to say?”

“Only when you want to.”

“And this,” Oropher gasped as Mîrdû’s pain hit him, causing him to clutch at Celeborn’s hand. “Is not one of those times,” he finished a little weekly as he fought to catch his breath.

Celeborn squeezed Oropher’s hand, giving him the support his beloved friend needed. “It will be over soon.”

Oropher nodded, grateful that Celeborn was with him. With his sister away attending the birth of her first grandchild, Celeborn was the only family Oropher had in Doriath. Mîrdû’s parents had been unable to attend since they had been sent away on the King’s business. They had been apologetic and promised that they would be there the next time. But Oropher had got the distinct impression that there would be no ‘next time’ if Mîrdû had her way. This pregnancy had been more taxing than either of them had expected.

Oropher looked at Celeborn, wondering why the elf decided to brave this storm. Oropher was Galathil’s brother-in-law and no relation to Celeborn after all. On top of that, Oropher did not hide his dislike of Celeborn’s wife, Artanis – nay, Galadriel, as Celeborn had named her. Oropher himself was considered slightly peculiar – how else would one describe an elf whose fervent espousal of the Nandor elves bordered on the obsessive. He was no Thingol[CH1] , bringing his civilising influence to those fey, often backward elves. No, he was more likely to insist that they were as good as any other elves – Moriquendi or Calaquendi, if not better.

“Why are you here, Celeborn?”

Celeborn glanced at the normally fiery elf; the birth was taking a lot more out of him than Celeborn had originally thought. Oropher was not one to suffer from self-doubt, if anything he suffered from the opposite. To hear him asking such a question was a little disconcerting. “Why am I here? It is not as if you are the brother I never had. One brother is more than enough. I feel no need to adopt another one.”

Celeborn smiled roguishly before adding, “And neither do I feel any sense of obligation towards you. After all, you have not always been there for me – a pillar of support and good sense.”

Oropher immediately bristled, “The good sense part I will concede but the rest is rubbish and you know it. I have always supported you, even if it has meant getting myself in trouble. How can you say that to me? Do you not remember the time you first beheld Artanis and were too … ?”

“Peace, mellon nín,” Celeborn raised a shaking hand to stop the budding tirade. His shoulders shook with silent laughter and he wished he could let Oropher continue but he expended too much energy in these speeches, energy he could not spare at the moment. “I am a good many years older than you. I am certain that there were time I needed a friend and you were not there.”

Oropher muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “That might be because I was not born then and you were too slow to make friends on your own.”

“Did you say something, dear one?” Celeborn asked pleasantly, eyebrows raised and elegant fingers drumming in the back of Oropher’s chair.

Oropher hastened to assure the elder elf that he had said nothing. Celeborn in a playful mood was as dangerous as Celeborn in the council chamber, for Oropher’s ego if nothing else.

Celeborn smiled and continued as if Oropher really had said nothing, “Of course, the fact that I cannot remember any such incidents does not invalidate the statement.” Oropher was too easy to rile up.

“Just for that, I will not let you hold your niece or nephew – for a while.”

“Then there would be no point in my staying, would there? For why would I suffer your company if not to see my nephew?”

 “Your nephew? How do you know it will be a boy?”

“It will be a boy – I already have a niece.”

“And it must be as you wish?”

“Naturally,” Celeborn stated confidently.

Oropher opened his mouth to argue, not because he had any personal preference between a son or daughter – any would be wonderful – but because arguing with Celeborn felt so natural. It had been the highlight of many of his days. The easy camaraderie and the elder elf’s dry sense of humour would have made their friendship a deep one. But it was made special by the fact that Oropher got to see a side of Celeborn that not many did. With the possible exception of his wife, Oropher was the only one Celeborn would dare to act silly around. Celeborn the Wise did not unwind in the presence of others. A naturally quiet person by inclination, responsibility had made him even graver.

It had taken Oropher’s fire and independence to bring the Sindar elf out his imposed isolation. Oropher had not needed the older elf and had proved as much on many occasions. He was friends with Celeborn because he wanted to, because he enjoyed the elf’s company. The fact that he would not let Celeborn lord it over him, or let him get away with anything greatly appealed to Celeborn. Oropher treated him as an equal, and demanded the same treatment from the advisor.

Combine that with a deep loyalty and unwavering faith in all his loved ones and friends, it was no wonder that Celeborn sat here with his friend, his brother. He would be an uncle to this child, no matter what he said. “Anyway, I missed my niece’s birth and early infancy. I will not do the same for my nephew.”

“And how are you planning to get away from your duties? King Thingol will only give you more work now with all the trouble.”

“I will manage somehow. I never got to see Nimloth as a babe. I was always too busy and frankly too awkward around the child. I will not make the same mistake again.”

“I remember the first time she was put in your arms. I was convinced you would drop her.”

“So was I.”

“And now you will be practising on my child. Perhaps, I should not let you near him – or her.”

“I would like to see you try.” This time is was Celeborn who bristled.

Oropher grinned; let it not be said that he did not know how to get his own back. He opened his mouth to say something but the response was lost forever as Mîrdû screamed. It seemed as if she had enough. Gathering up her strength, she pushed – it was time her child learnt who was the parent here.

Oropher turned to Celeborn, pain flitting across his face as Mîrdû pulled him in as well through the link they shared. “We will continue this later.”

Celeborn nodded, helping Oropher out of his seat. She needed her husband physically close for this final stage. Together they would help their child take this final step into Arda.

“You will wait?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Answer the question, Celeborn.”

“Yes, I will stay. Now go to your wife.” Oropher hurried into the birthing chamber leaving Celeborn alone in the hallway.

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Now that Oropher had left, the confidant visage of the silver-haired elf faltered. He had bantered with Oropher, but in truth he was terrified. Though he had one niece already, he did not know the first things about baby. He had spent most of Nimloth’s youth feeling absolutely, mind-numbingly petrified. He had greatly loved the tiny child, so fragile, so precious but he had not known how to act around her. It was only when she became older that his relationship with her had developed into a comfortable, supportive one. And now she was having a child of her own.

How time had passed, even for an immortal being like Celeborn. He was determined not to let this precious, early time pass without making more of an effort with this new child. He wondered if it would be a girl or a boy – another niece or nephew. A girl would be like Mîrdû – wily and determined to always get her own way. That could be a problem.

Maybe a boy would be better – a little boy to spoil, to pamper, to hold in his arms and wonder when he, too, would become a father. Yes, a little elfling, just like Oropher. Celeborn frowned, a little Elfing who would be as obstinate, charismatic and temperamental as his father. On further reflection, that did not sound like a good idea. Such an elfling would twist Celeborn around his tiny little finger, he was sure of it.

Celeborn did not particularly care for the idea. It reminded him too much of his marriage. When Galadriel was around, Celeborn often find it difficult to concentrate on anything else. She filled his thoughts so completely that Celeborn was sure he came across as a fool – a fool in love but a fool nonetheless. It was a shame that Galadriel and Oropher did not get along. Both were so alike – mulish. Not that he would admit as much to either. He still valued his life and health. There was so much more to do in life – so many more elves to bother.

Celeborn smiled to himself. He had always thought that like attracted like. Perhaps his wife and Oropher were the exception that proved the rule.

*~ Hmmm, if my wife and best friend are – er, tenacious, then that would make me … ~*

Thankfully, Celeborn did not have time to complete that unpleasant thought. A baby’s displeased wail cut across his thoughts. A beaming Oropher burst through the door, “Come, Celeborn. Come and see my heir.”

Celeborn willingly followed the younger elf into Mîrdû’s room. She seemed weary, her dark-blonde hair was soaked with sweat, turning it brown. In her arms she held an impossibly small bundle. For a moment, Celeborn feared that something had gone wrong with the baby. It was so small; Nimloth had never been so small. Had she? Celeborn turned to tell Oropher that his child was abnormal when he caught the fatuous expression on the new father’s face. Perhaps now was not a good time.

Oropher sat down beside his wife and looked at his baby. Mîrdû smiled up at him and at his encouragement, turned to Celeborn, “Come here. Come see our child.”

Celeborn obeyed in a sort of daze, tiptoeing to the bed, not wanting to disturb the obviously sleeping child. He gingerly bent over Oropher’s shoulder to look at the baby.

He frowned, “It seems a bit red – and a bit … wrinkly to me. Are you sure that what it should look like?”

Mîrdû laughed softly, “I am sure. Would you like to hold him?”

“Him,” Celeborn looked up at Mîrdû. “It is a boy?”

Oropher shook his head. “Yes, it is a boy. As you had said it would be.”

“Can I … can I hold him?”

“Of course, mellon nín.”

 Oropher took the baby from Mîrdû and gently placed him in Celeborn’s arms. As he expected, the older elf immediately froze, holding the baby as if afraid he would break. “He is a child, not glass. You can hold him a little tighter.”

“I cannot,” Celeborn gasped out. He was not sure what he was supposed to do now that he held the child. Nimloth had been older when he had first held her. And even then he had almost managed to drop her. “He is so small. What if I hurt him?”

“Considering what he had been through today, I doubt you can hurt him,” Oropher commented wryly, earning him a tight smack from his wife.

Celeborn nodded absent-mindedly, not really hearing what Oropher had said. He was too busy looking at the child. He looked over the tiny, little face – taking in the small nose, and mouth. He even counted the fingers of each hand just to make sure. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found the normal ten.

He was going to tell Oropher of his discovery when the baby opened his eyes. Celeborn found himself looking into eyes of green and knew he was lost. No one would be able to resist that gaze. Celeborn could feel himself melt and he was powerless to stop it.

The baby yawned and gurgled a little before falling asleep again. It was at that moment, that Celeborn lost his heart completely and forever.

Oropher moved closer to his friend and son, looking down at both fondly. “Celeborn, meet my son – Thranduil.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Baby Thranduil was definitely like his father, Mîrdû decided. Both made too much noise and were determined not to let her get any rest. Right now, Thranduil was sitting on Mîrdû’s belly, crying his eyes out. One would have thought he was a lot older than his six months considering all the noise he made.

Mîrdû was exhausted; she had tried everything to pacify Thranduil. She had fed him, burped him, read to him, rocked him – in desperation she had even sung to him. Though, now that she thought about it, that had made him cry even more than before.

Mîrdû made a little mental note – no more singing around the baby. She could wait for a few years until he learnt the value of good music.

Thranduil cried even harder when he saw his Nana’s eyes become vacant. She was obviously not listening, and he could not have that.

Mîrdû got up abruptly, catching Thranduil before he could fall to the bed. “I hear you, dear heart. What do you want? Whatever it is, I will give it to you if you just stop crying.”

Thranduil, like his father, just ignored her and kept on crying.

Mîrdû gathered the child into her arms, rocking him, bouncing him and then clutching him to her breast – all the vain hope that something, anything would make him stop. “Why is your father never home when you are being a nuisance?” Mîrdû demanded of Thranduil.

Before the baby could make an answer there was a knocking at the door. Mîrdû rolled her eyes, “That is all I needed, company.”

Balancing Thranduil on her hip she yanked the door open. “What?”

Celeborn blinked at Mîrdû’s tone. “I just wanted to come tell you that the King held Oropher back and he will not be home in time for dinner.”

Mîrdû’s face fell, she had been looking forward to having Oropher back. But she quickly covered her disappointment. “I know you had something to do with this, Celeborn.”

“I assure you, dear lady, that I had no part to play in the King’s decision but that of a lowly messenger.”

“Spare me the honeyed words, Sindar. I am Nandor and honey is wasted on me. But as long as you are here, you can make yourself useful. I am tired and want to take a nap. Till then, or until my husband returns, you can look after Thranduil.”

Before Celeborn could protest, his arms were full of crying elfling and Mîrdû was out of the room. How did she move so fast? He looked down at Thranduil, who was mercifully silent except for a few hear-wrenching sniffles. “So I guess you are stuck with me, little one.”

Thranduil looked up at the tall elf with big, wet green, eyes and promptly started crying again.

“Perhaps I should not have said that.”

x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

Celeborn sank onto the nearest chair, still clutching Thranduil, who refused to let go of the bigger elf. Celeborn did not know what to do. He had no experience in pacifying babies – that is what their parents were there for. Uncles spoiled and petted the children when they were behaving themselves and handed them right back when they became too difficult. That is the way it was supposed to work, but trust Mîrdû to turn things upside down. That Nandor [CH1] was too used to getting her own way since the baby was born. Oropher was suffering from an excess of gratitude and refused to gainsay his wife in anything.

Thranduil bellowed right in Celeborn highly sensitive ear to get his attention. The little Sindar did not like being ignored it seemed. “What am I going to do with you?”

Thranduil kept crying, his sobs sounded a little hoarse to Celeborn. He must have hurt his throat from all this crying. This could not be healthy for the child. He must do something; make the child understand that this behaviour was unacceptable.

“Please, child, stop your tears. If not for yourself then do it for me. If your Naneth awakes and finds that I have been unsuccessful in pacifying you, my life will no longer be worth living. Worse still, if your Adar finds me holding his weeping child, I will not live long enough to garner its worth.” Celeborn thought about Oropher reaction to Thranduil’s crying and hastily added, “If you have any shred of concern for me, then you will cease this crying.”

For a moment, Celeborn thought he had succeeded. Thranduil listened to this impassioned speech in relative silence. But as soon as Celeborn stopped speaking, Thranduil blinked once, then again, and the tears flowed once again.

Celeborn groaned, he could see his life passing before his eyes. It was a long life, and with Oropher’s return imminent, Celeborn was certain that he would not even get a change to fully experience the flashback. His head sank and his hand came to massage his temple. Who knew babies could be so stubborn – and loud?

Thranduil was truly his parents’ child.

It was only after a minute that Celeborn registered the absence of noise in the room. Did his ears deceive him or could he hear … giggling?

Celeborn looked down incredulously, and realised that he was not hallucinating. Thranduil was weeping no more. In fact, he seemed delighted.

When Celeborn had momentarily given into despair, his hair had spilled over his shoulder. He had worn it lose that day so the silver strands just about touched Thranduil, who was charmed by this new object. A huge, toothless grin dominated his face and his eyes, though swollen, almost sparkled. Celeborn shook his head slightly, causing his hair to stroke the baby’s face.

Celeborn took some of his hair and waved it in front of the Thranduil, causing him to gurgle in appreciation. The dying light caught the hair, making it glitter. Thranduil bounced excitedly in Celeborn’s lap, straining his chubby hands to get at this new pretty thing.

The older elf teasingly lowered his hair towards the baby, only to snatch it away before he could grab on. Thranduil laughed, obviously liking the game, and redoubling the effort. He almost managed to distract Celeborn once or twice with his incessant squirming. Celeborn was almost afraid the child would manage to fall out of his lap. Thranduil would be a strong elf when he grew up, Celeborn thought with pride.

He would also be a cunning elf.

Celeborn winced as Thranduil took advantage of his momentary distraction to grab onto the silver hair. Yes, definitely – the babe had strength in him.

Thranduil cooed in delight as his fist closed in tightly, tugging at the silver mane, making it sparkle in the light. Celeborn suffered in silence for a few moments because he was so charmed by the baby. The change was amazing – one minute Thranduil was a red-faced, almost frightening child and the next he was an astounding miracle.

It was only when Thranduil decided he wanted to keep some of the shiny stuff that Celeborn objected. “Careful, little one. I am not fond of pain in any form, no matter how enchanting the cause.”

Thranduil looked at the older elf with a surprisingly familiar look. There was much of his father in this child even though he did not look like Oropher. The green eyes and the blonde hair were definitely inherited from his mother. Though if Celeborn was not wrong, and he was not often prone to mistakes – Thranduil would be more gold than his mother’s … mousier colour.

Still there were strong hints of Oropher lurking in his son. There it was again – the very same mulish expression, the drawn eyebrows, the down turned mouth, right down to the stiff set of the jaw.

Celeborn lifted the baby up in the air, noting with amusement that he did not relinquish his hold, even though his eyes widened in alarm. “Are you going to let go of my hair, child or shall I drop you?”

Celeborn’s answer was a tugging at his hair as Thranduil renewed his quest. If he was going to go down then he would take his prize with him.

Celeborn sighed as he gently lowered the infant. “What am I going to do with you?”

Thranduil did not answer since he was too busy burrowing into Celeborn’s chest – making himself comfortable. When he had succeeded, his hands never letting go of the locks he held in the meanwhile, he turned his big green eyes on Celeborn and smiled sleepily.

As Celeborn smiled back, he did not notice that Thranduil was using his hair as a makeshift blanket.

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

It was late when Oropher returned from the King’s council. Thingol had kept him for longer than he had expected. Trouble was coming and the elves had to be prepared. Oropher wished that it could be done without taking time away from his wife and new child.

Still, he did not want to think about all the troubles which seemed to accompany him. He was going home and he did not want to upset Thranduil with his problems. At least he could spare the child, Mîrdû would know something was wrong no matter how much he tried to hide it form her. Sometimes it was a nuisance having a wife one could not lie to. Oropher wondered if other husbands suffered from such problems too.

Celeborn certainly did. If there was any elf that had it worse than Oropher it was the older Sindar. Mîrdû’s perception was acute enough but Artanis – she knew Celeborn had done something before he did.

*~ She probably knew Celeborn would not return home early today. ~*

Oropher had to grin at the sight in front of him – Celeborn sprawled asleep in his favourite chair, tightly holding his son. Thranduil looked very comfortable in his cocoon of strong arms and silver hair.

Oropher gently closed the door behind him and moved towards the couple.

“They looked so comfortable that I did not want to wake them,” said Mîrdû, coming quietly up behind her husband.

“They do, do they not?” Oropher smiled fondly at his son and best friend. “However, if we do not want an irate Artanis in our house we should wake up Celeborn.”

Mîrdû nodded, all too eager to avoid any sort of altercation with the Noldor. It was not as if she was scared of Galadriel, it was just that she was never one to create trouble. She bent down to take Thranduil out of Celeborn’s arms, taking care not to wake the baby.

“Come on, sweet-heart. I should put you to bed.”

Unfortunately, it was not that easy. Nothing was easy with any of Oropher’s family.

Thranduil, tenacious elf that he was, refused to let go his prize this easily. His fist remained closed over Celeborn’s hair even though he went to his mother’s arms willingly enough. Mîrdû looked at Oropher questioningly, what to do now?

Oropher tried gently prying open Thranduil’s fist but the child just held on even harder. There was no way Oropher would be able to free Celeborn without exerting pressure on the small hand.

“Now what? Celeborn’s hair is not long enough to extend to the bedroom.”

Oropher shrugged, “Maybe we can just leave him here.”

“You do that and I will be forced to take him home with me.”

The voice made both Mîrdû and Oropher jump. It seemed as if Celeborn was awake and not amused. “Your son has a strong grip and his father’s unwillingness to give up anything. However, that puts me in a awkward position.” Celeborn winced as Thranduil pulled at his hair again.

Oropher beamed, taking Celeborn’s words as a compliment. “What do you suggest we do, oh wise one?”

Celeborn sighed, “I know not. He is your son, you figure it out.”

“If we just cut a little bit – a very little bit,” Mîrdû added hastily, “then you can go home.”

Celeborn thought about it – he was proud of his fine hair, all elves were, but he wanted to go home. Galadriel would be waiting.

That thought convinced him. “I agree – but make sure it is a small amount.”

“Of course,” Oropher assured the older elf. “Do you not trust me?” he added a little too innocently.

“You do not want me to answer that question at this moment.”

Oropher smiled and quickly freed Celeborn, who smiled his thanks.

“I should be going now.”

Mîrdû and Oropher nodded, escorting him to their door. “Give our regards to your wife,” Mîrdû called out after the Sindar. “And bring her next time – I am sure Thranduil would appreciate playing with a new toy.”

  x – x – x – x – x – x – x – x

If was a bright sunny afternoon in Doriath. The relatively new Sun shone in the sky and the most elves were out trying to adjust to this new light in their lives. Most were happy; taking whatever Fate gave them with grace and dignity. There was so much to be thankful about – loved ones, family, life itself.

Of course, this good mood was not universally present. Some elves were most annoyed at Fate and especially at their loved ones. Mîrdû glared at her husband who was playing with Thranduil.

“Are you even listening to what I am saying?”

“Of course I am, meleth nín,” said Oropher absent-mindedly as he waved one of Mîrdû’s bracelets in front of the baby, making him laugh in glee.

“Then what are you going to do about it?”

“About what, dear?”

“About what I said.”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Oropher looked up, slightly anxious at Mîrdû’s scandalized tone. “What do you want me to do?”

“I do not know. But do you not think Thranduil’s behaviour is the slightest bit unbecoming?”

“I most certainly do not.” Oropher smiled down at his son, reassuring him silently that he loved him, faults and all, even if his mother did not. Ellyth were most strange that way. First they fell in love with you and then they tried to change you – successfully if they were like Mîrdû.

Mîrdû’s eyebrows shot up, “Most elflings have stuffed animals for toys.”

“And your point being?”

“Our child on the other hand, plays with costly jewels. Jewels which happen to belong to me. Jewels which happen to be given to him by you.”

“He likes them.”

“But that does not mean you should give them to him. That argument never worked with me. Anyway, they are too expensive to be used as playthings.”

“Can I help it if our son appreciates the finer things in life?”

“You should not be encouraging this habit. It will follow Thranduil for the rest of his life, mark my words.”

“Mîrdû, you worry too much. Besides, it is not as if he likes the jewels per se. He likes anything that sparkles. He is more than happy with a piece of glass as he is with your diamonds.”

“I know but it is the jewels that most people see.”

“And when did you start caring about what people see? Was that before or after you gave Thranduil our betrothal rings?”

Mîrdû crossed her arms defensively, “He was crying.”

“And that means you give him our Mithril rings?”

“I did not have anything else to give him.” She frowned when Oropher started laughing. “I lost the lock of hair and nothing else would pacify him.”

“Ah yes, Celeborn’s locks. Now that is one thing that he likes even more than your jewels.”

“That is because his hair is silver like my jewellery and not so cold or hard.”

Oropher nodded, “So the solution to our problem is to just shave Celeborn. Then Thranduil will be happy and so will you.”

“Brilliant suggestion, husband. You can do it though.”

“I think not. Since you were the one to express concerns about our son, you can approach Celeborn.”

“On second thoughts, it is not that bad a habit. We can wean him of it later.”

“You know best, dear.” Oropher smiled as Thranduil put the glittering bracelet in his mouth.

“Mîrdû knows best about something? And you are admitting it? Now that is a first.”

Thranduil dropped the bracelet at the sound of his favourite uncle’s voice and flopped onto his belly so that he could look at the new arrival.

“Are you sure you should be letting Thranduil eat that? Last I checked, rubies were not a nutritious diet for babies.”

Any response Oropher and Mîrdû were about to make was cut off by a high voice. Celeborn looked up to see an excited Thranduil tottering towards him on short, unsteady legs..

“ ‘ele!”

Celeborn backed away a little, knowing what happened whenever Thranduil got his hands on him. It had become even worse since Thranduil had learnt to walk – well, sort of remain upright. It made him too mobile. Celeborn really was not in the mood, he had just braided his hair so nicely today.

He pointed to the baby and said sternly “No!”

Thranduil rocked back, sitting down with a loud thump. He could not believe that his elf has spoken to him in that tone of voice. His big green eyes filed with tears and his little chin quivered as he looked mutely up at Celeborn.

Celeborn groaned when he saw that Thranduil was about to cry. He looked at Oropher, silently beseeching his help. He hated it when Thranduil cried.

 Oropher shrugged, this was Celeborn’s problem. He had upset Thranduil and now it was up to him to placate the child as well. “Having a bit of trouble, are we?” Oropher asked ingenuously, knowing full well that Celeborn was not able to refuse his son anything.

“None what so ever,” Celeborn bit out, knowing that he would cave in as soon as a single tear fell from those big baby eyes. “Hand me that bracelet.”

Mîrdû handed him the jewellery with a sceptical expression on her face. When Celeborn was around, Thranduil have never evinced an interest in another other toy. She did not think he would now.

Sure enough, Thranduil ignored Celeborn’s frantic efforts to distract him. His eyes never left Celeborn’s face, and he did not make a sound as the tears flowed down his cheeks, except for a few tiny hiccups here and there. Celeborn groaned and quickly gathered the babe into his arms. “I am sorry little one. I did not mean it. If you want to pull my hair out completely go ahead. Just please, do not cry.”

Thranduil refused to listen and kept crying. Celeborn sighed, took his braid in his hand and waved it in front of the baby. It was amazing – Thranduil’s weeping stopped immediately. Of course, Celeborn’s hair ended up back where it always was in these situations – in Thranduil’s tight grip.

Now that he had what he wanted, Thranduil gurgled happily up at Celeborn, who wiped the tears off his face.

Oropher could not help but laugh at the besotted expression on the older elf’s face, “You do realise that Thranduil has you wrapped around his little finger?”

“And what a lovely finger it is.”

“You are hopeless.”

“I know – I take my cue from Thranduil’s father.”

Oropher came to stand beside Celeborn, and tenderly stroked Thranduil head. “He is wonderful, is he not?”

“That he is – most wonderful,” said Celeborn. He did not even frown when Thranduil put his braid into his mouth and started sucking on it. Even the thought of split ends and chewed hair was not enough to make him give back the baby.

Mîrdû shook her head as she watched the two elves play with her baby, who looked delighted at all this attention. He positively glowed now that he had his whole family around him. With his shiny toy in one hand and his father’s finger in the other – what more could he want? She would never be able to wean him from this habit. Celeborn was too easy a target for Thranduil.

She smiled secretively – her son would be a fine elf. Scheming, manipulative – charming. He would get his way in life. Look how he handled the elves in his family. So what if he had a fondness for shiny things?

It could not hurt after all. After all, who would believe that an elf – any elf, would put jewels above the important things in life?

“Come here, Mîrdû. Come and see what your son is doing to me.”

Mîrdû smiled and nodded at Celeborn. All was right in the world. “You only have yourself to blame for whatever he is doing. Remember, this is all your fault.”

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