Chapter Text
You’re an idiot. An idiot with a death wish. A death wish that will be carried out by either your parents, your king or one of the fifteen orcs surrounding you.
If only you had listened!
Thranduil, your beloved king whom you had devoted your life to, had told you to stay at home. To stay safe whilst he led an army of elves, amongst them your mother and brother, to battle with dwarves (and later, you learned, an array of goblins, orcs and trolls) where many fighters from all sides would die.
Your father had kept you busy with ordering his books in his library, dusting off the shelves and neatening up you home, but once he turned his back you collected your sword, donned your armour and ran for battle.
By the time you had arrived the battle was raging thick and fast, with blood soaking into the dirt and dead bodies from all sides. Dale had been overrun and that was where you found yourself now, fighting orcs away from humans scrambling for safety.
The humans who had gotten away first had obviously tried to get help, as a few men with swords come round a corner. They manage to distract three of the orcs and dispatch of them, but they’re too slow and clumsy to make a difference. You order them away and they turn-tail and flee.
You’re aware that if these orcs don’t kill you then you mother will, once she’s murdered your father for being careless. If not her then Thranduil will do it, and an angry Thranduil is far worse than an angry mother.
The orcs are getting closer together and there’s hardly and room to swing your sword. You’ve managed to press back against a wall, leaving only three sides for attack to come from.
But it’s not enough.
If you falter now, miss a step or lose focus for even a second, your guts will pain the snow and stone.
You don’t have a choice. If help doesn’t come soon, then you will die here.
“Thranduil!”
There may be no use in calling the name of your King. He may be out in the fields, surrounded by enemies of his own, but never before has he failed to come when you called.
“Thranduil!”
You call again. The orcs are pressing closer now and your fighting is becoming less orchestrated and more desperate. If help doesn’t come soon then you will surely die.
“Thranduil!”
There is a whoosh of fabric rustling above you as someone jumps from the top of the wall, and suddenly Thranduil has landed on the other side of the pack of orcs.
Thranduil cuts them down three at a time, until there is nothing left but I pile of corpses and a pool of blood.
You thought he might be relieved, or even a little worried.
He is not.
He. Is. Furious.
“What are you doing here?” The king manages to hiss at you whilst raising his voice to a level where you can hear him across the bodies between you.
“What does it look like?” I looks like you were about to die, but you meant to insinuate that you were fighting.
“I told you to stay behind!”
You look at him as though he is truly stupid. “You expected me to listen?” you ask incredulously. “I’m a warrior! I have been trained to fight from the moment that I could stand!”
“You have been trained to follow orders as well!” Thranduil snaps. “You failed to obey me!”
There is a surprising lack of enemies right now and you would really like for one to appear so that this doesn’t have to dissolve into the impending fight. “I came to protect my family and my friends!” You protest, taking a step forwards in anger. “To protect you!”
“Yet it is I who must once again save you!”
“’Once again’? This is the first time I have ever needed your assistance!”
“Clearly you need my assistance in learning how to follow orders!” Thranduil snaps. “You have disobeyed a direct order and broke the promise you swore to me when you joined the guard.”
You glare at Thranduil, your gaze meeting his own icy blue one. For so long you have fought for him, aided in the protection of his kingdom and stood by his side. Never before has he rebuked you for not following an order you did not agree with.
“Go home.” He orders, disappointment filling his voice. He turns from you, heading for the archway to re-join the battle.
“Thranduil!”
“You have lost my respect and trust today and no longer have the privilege to address me so casually.” He says over his shoulder. He pauses only when he reaches the arch. “I send you home in disgrace. Your mother and your brother will follow you.”
“But-“
“If you fail to heed these order then I will see your defiance as an act of treachery and you will be charged with treason.” Without saying anything more Thranduil disappears around a corner to re-join the battle.
You stare in shock at where he stood moments ago. Tears of frustration and betrayal burn the back of your eyes, and you want to scream in frustration. You will not let Thranduil walk away from you and think it a triumph over your will, but you will not disobey him and risk the honour of your family.
You turn sharply on your heel and head for home, cutting down anything in your path with a cold indifference. If Thranduil wants you to act as a mindless subject, rather than the equal you have become, then that is what you will do.
When he returns from battle he will apologise for his actions.