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Between the time Oropher ended their relationship and the disaster at the feast celebrating the trade agreement with the dwarves, Gil-galad had only provoked Oropher into open hostility once.
It had been completely accidental. Shortly after Oropher accepted the future High King’s offer of lordship and had his household moved to the island of Balar, Gil-galad decided it was time to approach the elf-lord himself. Insofar he had only sent servants to present messages and gifts to Oropher, in an attempt to apologize while still giving Oropher enough space to cool his head. Every single one of his emissaries returned frightened and refused to deliver any further messages to the irate elf. Gil-galad assumed it was because Oropher had been intentionally frightening them away.
(What he didn’t know was that many of his messengers were foremost uncomfortable participating in what they recognized as romantic overtures to a very obviously uninterested, recently-widowed elf.)
It was irksome, but Gil-galad admitted that the situation was probably his own fault. He should have approached Oropher himself in the first place. Oropher was very choosy with his companions, Gil-galad knew, and hiding behind messengers would not win him back Oropher’s respect and friendship.
Knowing Oropher would not invite him to his estate of his own accord, Gil-galad decided to approach unannounced. It was a slow day when he knew the elf-lord would not be busy. His plan was to declare himself to Oropher’s guards, at which point they would recognize him as Noldor royalty and welcome him inside while they fetched their lord.
It did not quite go that way, however. Before Gil-galad could turn the corner that would lead him to the front gate of Oropher’s house, he saw someone that he recognized. First he saw a leather ball crest over a fence, then a moment later a child swiftly came over the fence after it.
Suddenly face to face with Thranduil, Gil-galad found himself mildly impressed. The young elf had climbed a wall that was almost as tall as Gil-galad with very little apparent effort.
He is Oropher’s son, after all. Gil-galad thought. The child froze the moment their eyes met, and Gil-galad smiled at him. “Hello, young master Thranduil. Did you lose this?” He picked up the ball and held it out to the child, sinking into a crouch as he did so to be closer at eye-level.
Ever so cautiously the boy reached out to take it. “Yes. Thank you.” He said shortly, not taking his eyes off Gil-galad. Once again Gil-galad was reminded strongly of Oropher. He’s inherited his father’s suspicion of strangers.
Gil-galad knew that, in order to be on good terms with Oropher, he would also have to win over his son. “I was just on my way to see your father.”
“Why? He doesn’t want to see you,” said Thranduil bluntly. Gil-galad’s smile lessened, just a little. He didn’t have a whole lot of experience with children - traditionally the Noldor did not have children in times of conflict, and he himself was one of the few exceptions. But he had been living with Cirdan for some time, since he was a child, and the ancient elf often found himself with orphaned children in his care. Gil-galad knew there was no point in being cross with a child.
“I don’t know about that,” shrugged Gil-galad. “I just came to check on how your family was settling in. How do you like Balar?” He asked.
The boy was slow to answer. “It’s fine.” He said evenly. Gil-galad could tell he wasn’t being entirely truthful.
“I know you must miss your old home,” Gil-galad said sympathetically, “But this is a new home for all of us, and I’m sure we can work together and become friends.” He smiled again. “I actually have something for you.”
Through the caution Gil-galad saw curiosity light in the boy’s eyes. “For me?” Thranduil asked, pointing at himself.
Gil-galad nodded. “For you.” He pulled a small bag from inside one of his cloak’s pockets. He’d tried to give it to Thranduil before, actually. But the messenger had come back with the package, refused by a spiteful Oropher.
Tucking the ball under his arm, Thranduil reached out and took the bag, a simple drawstring affair, opened it and pulled out a brightly painted wooden top with a string. The boy ran his finger over one of the smoothed curves of the object.
“Have you ever played with a spinning top before?” Gil-galad asked, and when the boy shook his head Gil-galad held out his hand imploringly. When Thranduil handed it back to him Gil-galad took it, wrapped the string around the striped stem, and set it point-first on the ground. “You have to pull the string very quickly.” He instructed, and with Thranduil watching him with rapt attention, he pulled on it and sent the top spinning.
“Wow!” said Thranduil, impressed as the toy spun across the flagstones. “Might I try?”
“Of course,” smiled Gil-galad, “it is yours, after all.” This time he helped the boy wrap the string around the top, and after a few false starts Thranduil managed to send it into a wobbly spin. A pleased look spread across the boy’s face, and Gil-galad felt a surge of triumph. All of his efforts to befriend Oropher would definitely be worth it.
“Thranduil?” The boy’s head turned as he heard his name, and Gil-galad was reminded of the first time they’d met, when he’d heard the same deep voice call out for the boy. “Where have you gone? I saw you climb the fence. You know you’re not supposed to go out alone!”
Gil-galad froze, and Thranduil was quicker to react. “I’m not alone, Ada!” He called back. “I’m playing with Prince Gil-galad!”
Half a heartbeat later Gil-galad saw the Sinda lord vault gracefully, if hastily, over the fence. His eyes landed on Gil-galad before his feet touched the ground. Later he might reflect how strange it was that the first emotion he saw on Oropher’s face was not anger, but concern. Then the concern melted into disbelief, and finally formed into outrage.
”What are you doing with my son?!” Oropher demanded angrily, and in an instant he moved right in front of Gil-galad. In one fluid motion Oropher whisked Thranduil up into his arms and held him close in such a manner that the father had effectively put himself between Gil-galad and the boy.
“I was on my way to see you when I happened upon him!” Gil-galad placated defensively, holding up his hands. “That is all. I have not laid a hand upon him.”
“We were just playing!” Thranduil insisted with him, tugging on his father’s sleeve. “He was being nice. He brought me a present.” The boy held up the top for his father to see, Oropher looked at it and Gil-galad’s heart sank when he saw his expression.
“I did not give my permission for you to give gifts to him!” Oropher all but snarled. “How dare you accost him without my consent!”
“I meant no harm by it!” Gil-galad tried to be reassuring. “Really, Oropher, it’s okay. I just came to check on you. I am glad to see you are doing well.”
Oropher’s eyes burned with icy blue fire. “I do not need you to check on me. Why do you keep sniffing around my family when you have a war to be worrying about?” He was trembling with rage.
“Ada…” Thranduil’s small voice caught both of their attention before Gil-galad could offer an explanation. “Please don’t be angry…”
Gil-galad watched in wonder as Oropher looked at his son and… stopped shaking. Suddenly he was composed, his face softened into a frown, and he took a breath. “Of course, ion nín.” He said soothingly, brushing a lock of Thranduil’s hair behind his ear. “I’m not angry.”
Thranduil’s lip trembled. “I’m sorry. Do I have to give the top back?” He was shaking a little himself, afraid, and Gil-galad suddenly felt wretched.
Oropher’s eyes widened. “No, you don’t. It’s yours, isn’t it?” He shot a dirty look at Gil-galad.
The boy’s eyes fell on Gil-galad also, questioning. Gil-galad nodded. “Yes. I brought it for you, little one.” He struggled to keep his voice calm, and felt almost relieved when Thranduil only said “Okay.”
Before Gil-galad could continue the conversation, Oropher spoke. “Are you hungry? Lunch is almost ready.” When the boy nodded, Oropher shrugged. “Then if you’ll excuse us, Prince Gil-galad, we have our meal to get to.”
Gil-galad had to fight the urge to insist otherwise, to ask to eat with them. “Yes, I’ll leave you to it.” He said reluctantly. “Enjoy your meal, Lord Oropher.”
Oropher nodded once, a firm jerk of his chin, and turned to walk briskly down the street. Just as suddenly as he’d appeared over the fence, he turned the corner and was gone, leaving Gil-galad standing alone. Slowly he realized that there were other eyes on him, as people had stopped to watch the altercation, and he quickly took his leave.
---
Oropher had a difficult time keeping himself composed, but he was determined not to let Thranduil see how furious he was.
He could not believe Gil-galad would sink so low as to try to get at him through his son. He saw through it immediately, and he knew what the spinning top was. It wasn’t merely a gift for Thranduil, it was a galling attempt to curry his favor. Just another facet of his overall goal to court Oropher. What an absolutely classless elf. Oropher was disgusted with himself for ever thinking Gil-galad was charming.
And though he loathed the entire situation, he could not make Thranduil give the top back. It would be cruel to take a toy from a child for reasons he wouldn’t understand. The boy had done nothing wrong.
As soon as they were back inside their house, he set Thranduil down. The boy remained quiet, his eyes cast downward. It struck Oropher as odd.
Elves considered it impolite to pick up children without their consent. It usually only happened if the adult had need - for example, if they were running from marauding dwarves - and Thranduil, though he was only a child, would normally have become indignant. He was just a bit too old for Oropher to be carrying him around needlessly, and he was very keen on proving how independent and grown-up he was.
That he had not protested at all left Oropher feeling guilty. He touched Thranduil’s shoulder, and the boy flinched.
“Thranduil,” Oropher said softly, “I should not have raised my voice. I am sorry if I upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” mumbled Thranduil as he picked at the top.
Oropher frowned. “Thranduil,” He said his name again as he fell to one knee and took his son’s hands. “You do realize I am not angry with you, yes?”
Thranduil blinked in surprise and looked up at him. “You’re not? Even though I was playing with Gil-galad?”
“That is not your fault.” Oropher said, gently squeezing the boy’s hands. The relief that spread across his son’s face made his heart ache, and he resolved to never get so angry in front of him again. Thranduil did not deserve to be exposed to the enmity between him and Gil-galad. “Though I do want you to be careful of who you talk to from now on. We don’t know everyone here.” Oropher had known all of his neighbors in Doriath for centuries. They had always been there. But here he knew almost no one. Even Gil-galad he knew not well at all, as the fool had already proven. They had only been together for three months, and not once had the idiot told him that he was effectively a prince. “He may smile at you and give you gifts, but Gil-galad is not a nice person, Thranduil. There will be other people like him, who will pretend to be nice only so that they can trick you. Do you understand me?”
“I understand.” Thranduil said slowly. Oropher reached out, and his son did not hesitate to rush into his arms. Oropher held him and hoped that he really did understand, and that understanding would be enough.
---
Gil-galad returned to his own “palace” - it was more of a small fort, really - confused and disappointed. He was trying to piece together what had just happened in his mind.
Obviously Oropher had been angry, and that was unfortunate, but the intensity of his anger had surprised him. Was he really that furious with him, even after all these years? He had not thought simply visiting Oropher’s house would get such a rise out of him.
What was even more surprising was how quickly his anger had abated. One moment he was furious, and the next he was not. The instant Thranduil had asked him, Oropher calmed down. In all the time he had known the elf, Gil-galad had never known Oropher to be so easily placated.
Círdan noticed how distracted he was, of course, and Gil-galad shared his thoughts with the wizened old elf, reasoning if anyone could make sense of it, it might be Círdan.
“You made a tactical error.” Círdan said shrewdly, stroking his short beard. “I do not know the nature of your history with this elf, but you got between a parent and their child. These times are dark and full of peril; you are lucky you escaped with all of your limbs.”
Gil-galad frowned. Despite having met Thranduil, he still found it difficult imagining Oropher as a father. He had known Oropher so well, young and free-spirited, yet his behavior around his son was so different from how he had acted before. Was this what parenthood did to a person? “How did I get away without a larger argument, then? He has ever been quick-tempered.”
Círdan cast his eyes out the nearby window and sighed. “It is different when you have children.” He explained simply, a sense of wistfulness coming over him. “If your argument was upsetting the child, then it’s possible the boy’s feelings mattered more to Lord Oropher than his own. If that is the case, you would do well to remember where you rank in this elf’s mind - no matter where that happens to be, it is not higher than his son.”
Gil-galad’s heart sank. He knew he should not be jealous of a child, but here he was playing second fiddle in Oropher’s heart. If only he had not been married. Then, surely, it would have been easier to make amends with Oropher. The pretty Sinda had gone from being defensive to fiercely protective, and Gil-galad realized that was a much more difficult barrier to overcome.
For a brief moment Gil-galad wondered what Oropher’s wife had been like; what sort of traits endeared her more to Oropher than him? The answer came to him easily enough: She didn’t betray him. But Gil-galad had otherwise done everything he could to gain his love and trust. How could anyone else have done more?
In any case, she was gone. The only person actually standing between him and Oropher was Thranduil, and that was a temporary problem; the boy would mature soon enough. Gil-galad was patient, he could wait a century or two with little trouble. He could win over both of them in due time.
If, Gil-galad reflected, they lived that long.