The water ripples as if someone is coming, though I can’t hear them.

I’m used to it, I guess; mother kept all sorts of quiet consorts, even her companion being so subtle on her paws that she could almost be determined silence incarnate. I turn my eyes in wonder, waiting for whoever it is to appear through the strange blanket of mist that separates them from my view.

The man that arrives is one that I am, honestly, surprised to only now be meeting up with. Golden pelted with a mane of pale, milky white, his dual horns stand above his crown and a companion (another deer creature – I really should ask what they are called) I don’t recall trailing along with him. I remember him from my youth, a common face, one of my mother’s many consorts and conspirators.

Thranduil.

I had always gathered the sense, ironically, that neither he nor my mother had truly liked one another. The game that thusly ensued between them was something I had often watched and listened to with interest, pretending to play my games, but always aware as my dam had tried so very hard to teach.

It didn’t mean I was any good at it, of course – I reason I thank the Gods that I have a good, strong kick.

His comment makes me frown. I don’t like my youth being pointed out to me, having always felt a strange sense of superiority emanating from those who were my elders and, having strived my entire youth to rise above it, am loathe to submit to now that I am reaching an age in which my muscles are no longer soft, the ridges of my features hardened and gaining in breadth with each passing week.

Still, I’m sure he means well, like an annoying uncle (if your uncle wanted you to spill all the family secrets, selling their beloved heirlooms on the black market during thanksgiving dinner). At least he didn’t call me “boy,” or some other bullshit term of male endearment.

"Its good to see you too, Thranduil," I say grumpily, forgetting that he is now technically my Lord in all my distaste for being treated like a child, remembering only after I say his name out loud that I have utterly forgot my manners (deciding to not apologize, instead trying my best at conversation – a talent that I probably need more practice in), "have you been sparring this morning as well?"


@Thranduil