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Tilda had always been Thranduil’s favorite. He remembered the days when she used to braid his hair and when he used to tell her stories. Now that she was growing up Thranduil didn’t know how to react.
Since it was very different with him and Legolas, Thranduil paid attention to all the signs. He had taken advantage of Tilda’s young age. Being an elf, he should’ve realized that this time was very short but he didn’t know that the times when Tilda wanted to be with her Ada were slowly coming to an end.
Bard on the other hand was very indifferent with the matter. He already saw Sigrid and Bain go through the same thing and let it go but Thranduil couldn’t simply let it go. Tilda was his pen-neth and he was her Ada.
It happened slowly. Activities like story time, and hair braiding and playing in Mirkwood didn’t seem fitting to Tilda anymore. She had taken to reading books by herself and her rambunctious and wild spirit started to mellow out and mature. She had grown taller and was well past the times when she could sit on Ada’s shoulders. She was reaching her preteens and slipping through Thranduil’s fingers and he didn’t know how to react.
Thranduil tried multiple times to engage with Tilda but she simply said she wasn’t interested or she wanted to finish this book by sundown or she didn’t have time to go to Mirkwood with Thranduil or that she was too old to do those things any more.
One night after everyone kissed their Da and Ada goodnight Thranduil sat on the couch with Bard. Bard’s arm was draped around Thranduil’s shoulder and he noticed a strained look on his love’s face.
“What’s wrong, my love?” He asked.
Thranduil let out a sigh and slumped down, leaning against Bard’s chest.
“I don’t think Tilda likes me anymore.” Thranduil said with a slight whine to his voice.
Bard knew what this was about and he smiled.
“You know she loves you, Thranduil.” He replied.
“But you see she doesn’t want to do anything with me anymore, Bard.” Thranduil sounded truly devastated. “She won’t braid my hair anymore, or ask me to go on walks. And she’s refused to go to Mirkwood with me two times in a row now. She no longer wants to speak to me. Am I doing something wrong?”
Bard chuckled a little. “She loves you,” he kissed Thranduil’s cheek. “She’s just growing up. It’s happened to Sigrid and Bain already. Its just part of being a parent.”
“But,” Thranduil stopped and looked down. He knew he had messed up the first time. He knew he never got to show Legolas how much he loved him. He knew he messed up in the Ada department with his own son and he didn’t want Tilda to turn her back and leave unexpectedly as well. “I just don’t want to mess up again.”
Bard held Thranduil closer to reassure him.
“You didn’t mess up, Thranduil.” He said. “Even though you’re an elf, you’re still a young parent. All you can do is love your children and watch them go. But always trust that they love you as much as you love them, because I think every child loves their parent. The same goes for Tilda. And the same goes for Legolas as well.”
Thranduil was sincerely consoled by Bard’s advice. In all the short years Bard has lived, he knew a lot about his children and how to love him. Thranduil reflected on the hundreds of years he has lived but never doubted how much he loved Legolas, just how he demonstrated it. And he was sure Tilda knew that he loved her too, her as well as Sigrid and Bain.
Thranduil kissed Bard as they curled up in front of the fire.
The next few days Thranduil tried subtly to spend time with Tilda. She never showed any indications of not wanting his company but they never did talk as much as they used to. Thranduil recalled being all but knocked down when he came to Bard’s house and Tilda was ready to tell him about her whole day. Now Thranduil had to settle with quietly reading with her during the afternoon.
Thranduil persisted though.
“How was your day, pen-neth?” he asked looking up from the book he was reading.
She continued reading her book but replied with a simple, “It was good.”
“What did you do?” he pressed.
“Ada, I’m trying to read.” She replied. There was no malice in her voice but her words seemed to hurt Thranduil.
Thranduil left her alone from that point on. He tried a couple times to engage with Tilda the way they used to but little to no avail.
One day however he discovered something very unsettling. He was walking the streets of Dale one morning on one of his morning walks that used to include Tilda. Bard was busy with a council meeting and wasn’t able to join Thranduil. So Thranduil was on his own walking amongst the people of Dale.
He was just about to pass through the market when he heard a familiar giggle. The same giggle that would bubble up when a joke was told or when his hair was in ridiculous braids.
Thranduil dashed around the corner to notice Tilda standing by the apple cart speaking to someone. Her face was lit up and she seemed to be glowing at this moment. She let out another giggle and Thranduil tried to discreetly get closer. He peered around the corner of the building that was close enough for him to hear the conversation.
Tilda was laughing over some simpleton joke this human boy was saying. Thranduil stole quick glances at Tilda looking at her reaction. She was utterly infatuated with this boy. His pale skin and scruffy hair was must have been attractive to her somehow. He was lanky. Not muscular in any way, and had no bearing of a true man. Thranduil judged him up and down. His clothes were shabby and he certainly was no match for his pen-neth.
However stealthy Thranduil was trying to be, an elf in the middle of a crowd of people wasn’t hard to spot. He stuck out like a sore thumb, his silver hair and luxurious clothing, everyone was definitely noticing his behavior- especially the enraged preteen that was before him now.
“Ada?” Tilda’s voice was daggers now. He had been found out. “Were you spying on me?!”
Her voice was certainly not the sweet voice he heard earlier, but now it was shaped with infuriated rage.
The boy looked at Thranduil and back at Tilda, then back at Thranduil, in dumbstruck fear. Everyone in Dale knew the Elven king of Mirkwood and usually stayed away or tried not to get in his way.
“I gotta go, Tilda.” He said stupidly. “I’ll catch you later.” He scurried off glancing over his shoulder a couple times to see if Thranduil was still there.
What a pathetic lad, Thranduil thought to himself but didn’t dare to say it out loud because he had other problems before him.
“How could you?” Tilda’s eyes had become shiny with tears as her pride tried to keep them in her eyes.
“I didn’t mean-.” It was too late because Tilda was already running back in the direction of the house, leaving Thranduil with a parade of stares.
He glared at all of them as a warning to leave him alone.
He felt a stab of guilt as well as shame knowing he had hurt his pen-neth.
Thranduil needed advice and he needed it quick. He needed Bard’s advice. Surely he’d know what to do.
Counsel meeting or not, Thranduil made sure he got to talk to Bard.
“Thranduil, I’m in the middle of-.”
“I’ve done it now, Bard!” Thranduil wailed.
“What have you done?” Bard was a little more than exasperated as he could see a counsel of men and dwarves at the table.
“I accidently spied on Tilda!” Thanduil continued. “She was talking to a boy and I spied on her, and now she despises me!” Thranduil was nearly in tears and those around the table could hardly believe their eyes at the elven king so distraught like this.
“You got to go talk to her.” Bard said calmly, his composer in full check. “There’s nothing else I can say about it. This is something you’re going to have to mend out yourself.”
Thranduil wasn’t so sure about the offhanded advice but at this point he would take anything. “Thank you, my love!” Thranduil said desperately and gave Bard a quick kiss and whisked away to find Tilda, leaving Bard to explain to his counsel members.
Thranduil found Tilda in her room when he returned home. At least, he knew she was in her room, but the door was locked.
“Tilda,” Thranduil said calmly, leaning against the door. “Let me in, pen-neth.”
There was muffled sniffle followed by a loud thud against the door where Thranduil was laying his head. It looks like she has thrown a book at the door. A heavy book.
“Leave me alone!” she yelled with evident sobbing in her voice. “You’ve done enough damage!”
“I didn’t mean to spy on you, Tilda!” Thranduil tried to desperately explain himself. “I just saw you talking to that boy and I got worried and I didn’t know him and-.”
“That gives you no right, Ada!” Tilda said. A small relief came over Thranduil to hear he was still called Ada. “He’s probably never going to talk to me ever again!”
Thranduil was now slumped back against the door.
“You don’t know that.” He said. Silence was the reply. “He seemed quite enamored by you I have to admit. Made me jealous.”
There was still no reply and Thranduil was running out of options. He sat there on the floor like that for a few more minutes before the idea rushed over him.
Thranduil got up from his spot to grab one of Tilda’s favorite storybooks. It was her favorite because this particular book was filled with poems that served as songs where the reader is supposed to sing the poem. Thranduil knew all the tunes.
Thranduil chose her favorite, one that he had sung to her many times before. As he sang, he could hear movement in the room.
When the song came to a close, Thranduil replied with a small, “I’m sorry.”
The door creaked open slowly and Tilda stood over her Ada, tears dried and ready to give him a hug.
Thranduil stood up and Tilda gave him a warm embrace. “I’m sorry I got so mad, Ada.”
“I’m sorry I spied on you, pen-neth.”
“I just wanted to see him again,” Tilda sniffled. Her adolescent form hiccupping.
“I just wanted to know that you still loved your Ada.” Thranduil replied honestly.
“What are you talking about? Of course I love you!” Tilda replied.
“You never seem to want to be with me anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Ada. I don’t mean to. Don’t’ think it’s cause I’m avoiding you!”
Thranduil gave her another embrace and all the bad blood was reversed and no more. He was glad to have his little one again even though she wasn’t that little anymore.
“Do you think he will ever speak to me again?” Tilda asked sadly.
“Am I that scary?”
“He told me one time elves make him nervous and I never mentioned my Ada was the elven king. It probably surprised him.”
“That will do it.” Thranduil said. “Let me see if I can persuade him.”
“Oh no you don’t!” Tilda almost shrieked in the familiar horror of earlier. “It’s fine promise. I don’t even let Da get involved with this. Then again Da is a human...”
“I’m sure you will be just fine then, pen neth.” Thranduil knew Tilda’s courage and persistency; if she wanted to see this boy again she’d find a way.
“I love you, Ada.” Tilda replied looking up to Thranduil; the distance wasn’t as long anymore.
Thranduil finally understood and he could finally see the maturity that was in Tilda and decided to take Bard’s advice that he’d just have to trust that Tilda loved him just as much as he loved her.