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The stable door creaked as it was pushed open from the outside. A small head poked inside, then opened the door wider, gesturing for his companion to enter as well. Two small forms entered, the first confidently, and the other hesitant.
"Thranduil, are you sure we should be doing this? You know we're not allowed around the horses without a grown elf," the first one said, glancing around as if someone might pop out at any moment.
The one in the lead rolled his eyes, fully used to his friend's nervousness. "It's fine, Trelacin, I know how to handle my pony just fine. The horses will be easy." He waved away his friends worries.
"But your pony is your size. The horses could squash you! You know that's why it's not allowed!" Trelacin's eyes were round and wide in the dim light of the moon, which shone through the stable's small windows.
The royal stables were void of elves, but full of horses, most of whom were sleeping. The sound of horse's snores and feel breaths could be heard throughout the large building, but prince Thranduil was not to be deterred.
He strode over to the wall of the stable where all the riding tack was stored, and headed straight for where he knew his saddle was.
His father had gotten him his saddle for riding his pony, Mist, whom Thranduil had gotten for a birthday two years ago. Thranduil loved mist, and loved riding, but he was also ambitious, and mischievous. He wanted to ride a real horse. Of course, his father wouldn't allow it, and so neither would any other elf. The perks of being the king, Thranduil supposed. Everyone else had to listen to you.
Well, currently his father was gathered in the great hall, with many of the other elves, listening or telling stories, or just enjoying some of the many treats which were always laid out in the evening in the castle of Greenwood. All the elves who were not gathered in the great hall were in their own homes with their families, or alone, or possibly out in the town. All in all, it just meant that there was no one to stop Prince Thranduil ad he achieved his year long dream of riding a mighty steed all by himself.
So, lifting his small saddle down from it's hook, and holding it awkwardly in front of him, the crown prince strode through the stables, his nervous friend trailing behind, as he glanced at each of the horses. He finally stopped by the pen holding the horse he was looking for.
Cherry was a calm horse, and a bit smaller than all the other war horses, but still large enough to satisfy young Thranduil. She was sleeping, but that didn't bother the prince. He put the saddle on the post beside the pen, opened the door to the pen, and stepped inside.
Patting Cherry on her neck, which woke the horse up, Thranduil took the bridle off it's hook on the wall, and attempted to put it in Cherry's mouth.
Thranduil had seen it done many times, and had even been taught how to do it himself, but that was always in Mist, whose head was closer to the level he could reach. Luckily, since Cherry was just waking up, she wasn't moving around too much.
Looking around, Thranduil noticed an empty box nearby. Hanging the bridle over the fence, and ignoring Trelacin's scared whining, Thranduil stepped over, picked up the box, and put it upside down next to Cherry. Then, grabbing the bridle again, and stepping up on the box, he began the work of putting the bit in Cherry's mouth, and the bridle around her head.
After that was done, and with Trelacin still whining in the background, Thranduil put the saddle on her. Lengthening the straps, as he had practiced the day before while hiding behind the stables, Thranduil secured them around Cherry, and stepped down off his box.
"Thranduil, if you get in trouble, I am not taking the blame! Just remember, this was not my idea!" Trelacin was still protesting in the background.
"Don't worry, Trel" Thranduil replied, grabbing the horse's lead and walking her out of the stable. She followed him diligently, and as they passed Trelacin, the other elf followed them out of the stable.
Thranduil led her over to the small mounting block in the corner of the yard, climbed up into it, and then, putting his foot in the stirrup, he started to doubt himself. It was a lot higher up than it normally was. But, he thought to himself, steeling his resolve, he could do it. He followed through with the motion, pushing himself up over the horse, and swinging his leg over its back in one fluid motion.
Exhilarated by the height, and by the feeling of success, Thranduil grinned down at his friend. "See, Trelacin, I told you I could do it!"
Trelacin smiled back hesitantly, surprised at the success of the prince. Of course, Thranduil had always been able to do whatever he set his mind to.
"Come on," Thranduil directed to the horse, giving his feet a kick into the horse's side. Cherry neighed once, then started off. She tossed her head as she walked, as if questioning why she had been woken up to carry the small prince around.
Thranduil was satisfied with his success as he walked Cherry around the yard, but then he decided that he could do more. Kicking his foot to nudge Cherry into a trot, he was surprised to have his foot slip out of the stirrup. He tried to slip it back in, but he was panicking, and his foot wasn't working the way he wanted it to.
He leaned down to look at where the stirrup was, but Cherry had already been urged into a trot, and as he bent over, the blood rushed to his head, the panic set in, his fingers slipped on the reins, and he fell off the horse.
He was aware of was the sensation of falling, the wind in his ears, almost overpowering Trelacin's concerned cries, and the sound of something hitting the ground hard. It was only when he felt the impact in his right side, arm, and head, that he realized it was himself that had hit the ground.
Cherry, having been shocked by her rider falling off, had trotted for a few steps, then stopped, looking back at the prince's who was laying unceremoniously on the ground.
Thranduil pushed himself him with his left arm, groaning and reaching for his head with his right hand. Trelacin ran over, falling to his knees beside his friend, calling out to him.
"Thran, are you okay? Thranduil?" The prince could hear the sorry in his friend's voice and, sorry for having dragged the other elf into this, tried to reassure him.
"I'm... I'm alright, Trel." He sat up straighter, sitting up even as the world spun slightly before his eyes.
Trelacin laughed nervously before reaching out a hand, which Thranduil grabbed and used to help pull himself up. He winced, and reached a hand to the side of his head, where it hurt the most. He felt something wet, and when he pulled his hand away, he could see a faint gleam of red on it.
Swallowing heavily, he tried to push the panic to the back of his mind, but his eyes wouldn't look away from the sticky red covering the tips of his fingers. Finally getting his eyes up, they met the worried gaze of Trelacin.
The other young elf, who had always been better with handling emergencies than Thranduil had, immediately took charge. Grabbing Thranduil's hand in his own, he pushed it down to the prince's side, so that the injured elf wouldn't be panicking ad much.
Keeping his grip on his friend's hand, Trelacin looked into Thranduil's still panicked eyes, and held his gaze for a few moments. "Head wounds always look worse than they are," he said, quoting his father, who was the captain of the castle guard. "Come on, Thranduil, I'll help you put her back in her pen, and we'll go get a bandage for you after. You'll be fine!"
Thranduil blinked a few times, his eyes slowly coming back into focus, before he nodded his head. Trelacin nodded with him, before letting go of his grip on Thranduil's hand.
The two boys then walked over to where Cherry was still standing, waiting to see what would happen to her, and if she would be able to go back to sleep anytime soon. Trelacin was the one to grab the bridle, since Thranduil seemed hesitant to. Leading her back inside, with Thranduil following behind as well, Trelacin undid the work that Thranduil had accomplished, taking off the saddle and bridle, using the upturned box that Thranduil had left there.
Thranduil, knowing that this had been his fault, and wanting to help his friend, hung up the bridle in the stall again, and carried his saddle over to it's place on the far wall. He didn't bother with tightening the saddle straps again, not thinking it was super important at the moment. By the time he was done that, Trelacin was coming over, having cleaned up and closing the stall.
"Let's get back to the castle. You need to see a healer," he said, touching Thranduil gently on the arm. The prince nodded wearily, wincing as it aggravated the headache he could feel coming on.
The air was still cool outside, and the moon was going behind a cloud as they stepped out of the stable. The stable yard was swept in deeper darkness for a minute, and as the boys were making their ways across the yard back to the castle entrance, a dark figure slid out of the shadows, stopping in front of the path of the nervous boys.
Thranduil and Trelacin jumped slightly at the sudden entrance, then they both hung their heads as they recognized the new comer.
"Adar," Thranduil said at the same time as Trelacin said, "Your Majesty."
King Oropher stared down at the two young elves, not saying a word. The boy's heads sunk lower and lower with every passing moment of scrutiny.
Finally, the king spoke. "Thranduil, follow my finger," he said, his voice neutral, holding up one finger in front of Thranduil's eyes. The prince obediently kept his eyes focused on his father's finger as it was swept from side to side and up and down in front of his face.
Oropher breathed out heavily in a sigh. "At least you don't have a concussion. Those bring on the worst kind of headaches. You can't even imagine." He sounded relieved, but all that the two boys could think of was that he knew that Thranduil was hurt in his head, even though the injury was on the back of his head, and it was still quite dark.
"How did you know?" Trelacin blurted out, not afraid of being so blunt with the king, since he was best friends with the prince.
"I watched the whole thing. I saw you earlier today, playing with the straps on your saddle." Oropher replied, his face serious. However, Thranduil could detect the small smirk in his voice. His head hung low again, even as his father grabbed his arm gently above the elbow. "Come in, let's get you inside. I believe what happened was enough punishment for you." The boy's breathed out a sigh of relief. "However, I will be telling your father about this, Trelacin." The smirk in his voice grew, and then Thranduil wasn't the only one hanging his head.
The two boys followed the king off to the castle, and into the healing wing, where Thranduil's head was taken care of and bandaged. Trelacin's father also agreed that what had happened was enough punishment.
Thranduil, for some reason, never forgot his father's words about a concussion, and he was curious about how bad it could be for the next many years.
MANY YEARS LATER
Thranduil leaped back out of the way, bringing his sword up to block the blow that was swung at him by his opponent. He panted heavily, having been fighting for many minutes, and he and his opponent were both quite exhausted.
The other swordsman, however, was better than Thranduil, and that became even more evident as the fight went on. Thranduil stepped to the side quickly as his opponent swung his sword in a downward arc. Thranduil's arm was trembling as it held his weapon, and, deciding that the fight was over, he raised his left hand up in the universal motion of surrender.
Knowing better than to lower his sword when the match was finished, he kept his guard up, but when he noticed that his opponent's heavy sword was still swinging towards him, his arm was too tired and shaky to block in time.
Thranduil glanced up anxiously into his opponent's eyes, and Trelacin looked back fearfully. The other elf tried to stop his blow, but the heavy wooden training sword he was using was already heading towards the prince's head, assisted by gravity, and there was nothing he could do.
Thranduil tried to leap to the side, and halfway managed it. The heavy wooden sword glanced his skull, but it wasn't the heavy blow it could have been. He staggered, off balance, and fell to the ground. His arms were thrown out, trying to catch him, but the speed got in the way, and he fell hard to the ground.
He felt his head hitting the ground, and pain flared through his skull and brain, then everything went black.
He groaned as he woke up, aware of a steady pounding in his head, which turned into a sharp pain as his eyes opened slightly. The blinds on the windows were closed, letting in a little light through, enough to see the white walls of a room in the healing halls.
After blinking a few times, his gaze slid to the side, where he saw two people. One was sitting beside his head, staring anxiously at him, and the other was just turning around from where he had been facing away at the side of the room.
"Thranduil," the one by his bed said in relief, just as the other, a healer, said, "My prince." Thranduil just groaned, trying to raise a hand to his head. Feeling thick white bandages wrapping around his head, the memories of his sparring match flew through his mind.
"Ow." Was all he could say.
"Sorry, Thranduil," Trelacin said, his voice conveying how sorry he was. "I didn't see your surrender until it was too late." He cast his eyes down, unable to look at his injured friend any longer.
"It's alright, Trel," Thranduil said, his voice rough and slow from lack of use. "I know you didn't mean to do it. Besides, I was too slow anyway. If anything, it was my fault."
Before Trelacin could reply and insist that it was, in fact, his fault, which would start an argument between the two friends that would never stop, the healer stepped in.
"Well, no matter whose fault it was, the fact is that Prince Thranduil has a small concussion, and so will be off duty and training for the next week, at least."
That piqued Thranduil's interest. "A concussion, you say?" He asked. "I've always wondered what those felt like." He moved his head slightly on the pillow, and grimaced as it sent another sharp pain through his head. "I wish I was still wondering," he said wryly. "At least now I know one thing."
"And what's that?" Trelacin asked, humoring his friend for once.
"Adar was right. This headache is the worst," Thranduil replied, misery clear in his whiny voice.
Trelacin tried to hold back his smile, knowing to what his friend was referring to, but failed. Soon, he was full out laughing. Thranduil frowned heavily at him, and reached his hand above his head, searching for anything he could grab. His hand finding a second pillow on the small bed, he wasted no time in grabbing it, and throwing it at his friend, who was still laughing.
Trelacin's laugh turned into a look of surprise as the well aimed pillow hit him square in the face. "Ow," he said lamely. The healer just shook his head at the two, being well aware of how childish they were. Thranduil grinned at his friend's pain, then closed his eyes and breathed contently. He was alright, Trelacin was alright, and one of the mysteries from his childhood had been solved: yes, concussions are the worst. Adar was always right.