Oropher opened the door and stared steadily at his uninvited guest.

“What are you doing here?”

“There is no need to be rude,” Celeborn said calmly as he stepped across the threshold-uninvited, of course.

“There is every reason,” Oropher responded, closing the door of his make-shift home that paled in comparison to the one from which he had so recently been forced.

He stood stiffly, waiting for Celeborn to state his case even though he already knew why his cousin was here.

“I ask to you reconsider. Where is the wisdom in uprooting your family again? Think of Anirael, of Thranduil. Surely you wish for your son to enjoy the comforts of a stable home.”

Oropher nearly snorted with indignation.

“Stable?” he cried. “You consider this... this muddied... bog to be a stable home? Look around you, Celeborn! This is not home! We are ridiculed in our own lands by invaders from across the sea who insist on imposing upon us an unnatural life.  We are not meant to live like this, and that… usurper has no right to call himself our king!”

A sound from the small corridor drew his attention and he frowned.

“Get back in bed, Thranduil,” he snapped, pausing to ensure he was obeyed before turning back to his cousin and folding his arms across his chest.

Celeborn's gaze turned back to him from where he, too, had heard the shuffling

“Doriath is gone, Oropher. It is destroyed and never coming back. Dior is dead. Thingol is dead. Beleriand as we knew it is gone. We must learn to embrace what is left and forge a new life, putting aside some of the grievances of the past.  There is no reason to refuse!”  Celeborn paused, taking a deep, calming breath before adding, “You would be welcome as a prince of the new realm.  Even as a birthright.  Do not turn that down.  Your family, Oropher, would live in security.”

“The same security we thought we had before?  We were secure there as well, if you remember.  Behind solid rock built to protect those inside.  In Doriath, Celeborn, where your wife's kin cut us down as they would the most repulsive of orcs.  I will not put aside the slaughter of my people… my kin! as easily as you have.  I will not betray my allegiances for the sake of an exotic bedwarmer.”

Oropher knew he had hit home. Color rose up Celeborn's neck and into his face. It was like watching a pot come to boil, Oropher thought. With speed faster than he would have thought possible, Oropher found himself against the wall, Celeborn’s steel grip at the neck of his tunic.

“Say what you will of me, cousin,” Celeborn fairly spat the last word through gritted teeth, “but you will not speak such vile words of my wife.”

Oropher had to give Celeborn credit for one thing at least; he was not afraid of supporting his wife.  Of course, in doing so he was alienating the rest of his kin and becoming the subject of rather a lot of gossip.  Oropher inclined his head.

“Of course,” he replied. 

He would not apologize.  He had meant what he said and Celeborn needed to hear it.  The Noldo had flaunted herself at every opportunity, only proving what others had said about her power-lust.  She would lead his cousin down a rough and rocky road and Oropher had no intention of following them.  He would set out on his own as he had planned.  If any wished to follow, he would not stop them, nor would he ask or even notify that whelp who dared call himself king.  High King, even!  No, he thought, he would simply leave.

The stories of the realms across the Hithaeglir had to have some grain of truth.  He would seek out the elves of the great forest, or even further east.  To a place where his wife could live without fear and his son could enjoy his youth while he had it.  A place where they were free to be Sindar and uphold their own traditions, not molded into something they were not with strange ways that did not suit them.  A new life in Rovannion where they would live as elves were intended.  Living in harmony with their surroundings, not attempting to bend every living thing to their own will.  These Noldor were nearly as bad as men.

"Release me," he said with as much calm in his tone as he could muster.

Celeborn acquiesced and Oropher straightened his tunic.

"I have nothing more to say on this matter, Celeborn.  You are, as always, welcome to join us, but we will not be led by Galadriel-there, he had spoken her name-and we will not remain here.

Celeborn set his jaw and nodded.  "If you have made up your mind then..."

"I have."

Oropher opened the door in a silent gesture of dismissal.  Celeborn did not leave immediately, and Oropher found himself hoping that his cousin would simply be on his way. 

After several long moments, Celeborn finally spoke.

"Very well," he said curtly and stepped back outside, pausing only to leave Oropher with the faintest of nods-apparently the most his curtesy could muster just at that moment.

Oropher closed the door and sank into the nearest chair.  If he was going to do this, then it was time to make his plans.