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Upon reaching the library, Thranduil stood in the doorway and silently observed his granddaughter, Rhavaniel, and her husband, Haldir, cuddled up next to each other in front of the fire, quietly conversing amongst themselves. In the past, Thranduil would have immediately made his presence known, perhaps even grabbed Haldir and pulled him further away from his beloved granddaughter — however, the Elvenking’s perspective had eased, his views broadened. Previously, he would have been blinded with the desire to keep his granddaughter safe and with him forever, that he’d failed to realise just how happy Haldir makes Rhavaniel. The blinded desires of the Elvenking would swiftly mar the previously good rapport he held with the Marchwarden of Lorien and cause a rift; however, now, Thranduil had a plan in mind to fix that, fix the damage he’d caused in the past and start anew.
Bringing himself back to the present, Thranduil’s gaze rested on Rhavaniel and Haldir once more; after seeing how happy the two were together, it became increasingly difficult for him to hate the Lorien elf that had stolen the heart of his granddaughter. Clearing his throat in an attempt to make his presence known to the two, Thranduil advanced slowly into the room, watching as the two turned to face him - each with differing reactions. “Daeradar!” Rhavaniel exclaimed with a beaming smile, while Haldir politely bowed his head and simply greeted Thranduil with a “My Lord.” Thranduil just managed to retain a snicker upon seeing the reactions. In turn, he, too, bowed his head, greeting the two. “Mae govannen,” he said before raising his head again, “I hope I am not disturbing anything?” Rhavaniel shook her head, her smile remaining. “You aren’t disturbing us, not at all. Was there something you needed?” Thranduil remained silent for a moment, a wave of nervousness flushing over his body. However, he managed to quickly collect himself as he nodded in confirmation. He turned his attention towards Haldir before speaking. “I wish to speak with you alone, Haldir.”
Thranduil wished he was a skilled artist with a photographic memory, for the desire to recreate Haldir’s current expression in paint was all too amusing to the Elvenking. The colour had drained from the Marchwarden’s face, a sallow, almost nauseous look left in its place. “My Lord? You wish to speak.. to me?” He said, making a conscious effort to not appear intimidated. It wasn’t easy for Haldir to feel intimidated by another, but considering past interactions with Mirkwood’s ruler… “Yes. Did you not hear me the first time?”
“N-no, I heard you perfectly well.”
“Well,” Thranduil retreated back towards the door, briefly pausing to toss a look over his shoulder at Haldir, “Shall we?” Taking a moment to collect himself, Haldir began to shuffle out from under the blanket and glanced at Rhavaniel with a look that seemed to be a plea for help. Rhavaniel simply grinned, moving to cup his cheeks before whispering to him softly, “Everything will be alright, meleth-nin, I promise.” She pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose before looking into his eyes, attempting to display a calming aura. After a moment, Haldir simply made a noise, turning into one of the hands that was cupping his face before placing a few gentle kisses to the palm. He then moved away from his lover, turning to look at the Elvenking who was still lingering by the door.
Once Haldir ventured towards the other, Thranduil elegantly drifted out of the library and led the younger elf towards his private study. Upon arriving, he opened the door and moved inside, waiting for Haldir to follow before closing the door behind him. He then turned to the other, observing as Haldir seemed to uncomfortably shift on the balls of his feet, attempting to look anywhere that wasn’t in Thranduil’s general direction. A few seconds passed before the older elf spoke. “Haldir.” He simply called. Upon hearing his name, the Marchwarden immediately looked at the other. “Yes, my Lord?” He asked, trying to mask any hints of nervousness in his voice.
The Elvenking remained silent for a moment before responding in his usual tone, something that sounded as if he was talking at someone rather than to someone, “On Anorithil’s wedding day, him and Meludir both received crowns. On Firverior and Aurelia’s wedding day, Aurelia also received a crown.” Haldir half wondered whether he was being lured into some sort of trap; he was cautious as he nodded once with a simple “Yes, sir.”
”On your wedding day, you never received a crown from me.” Thranduil said as if he was simply stating the weather. “I did not, My Lord.”
”Vania received jewels from me that day, just before her wedding.”
“Yes, sir, I remember her showing them to me afterwards.” Haldir smiled at the memory; he recalled how his new wife had bounded over to him like an excitable pup, proudly showing off the necklace and rings her grandfather had gifted to her. That day, Haldir never received anything from Thranduil, unlike everyone else who had married into this family - however, he did not care, as seeing his beloved Rhavaniel so happy was all he could ever wish for.
“This is long overdue, Haldir.” The named elf was broken out of his memory as he heard the smooth voice of the Elvenking flow to his ears. He looked up at the taller elf in front of him, still in just as much awe and fascination as he was when he first saw Thranduil, still trying to comprehend just how, after all these years, the Elvenking managed to remain looking so young and flawless. Haldir was almost tempted to ask Thranduil what skin and hair care he used and where he could get some, but instead he simply tilted his head with genuine curiosity, asking carefully “What… what is overdue, My Lord?”
The Marchwarden almost— almost— jumped out of his skin as Thranduil began to advance towards him, and he suddenly realised that he truly was trapped, for there was a wide table behind him with other various furnitures at either side of him. The only way out of this room was the door, which was behind Thranduil. Oh shit. Deeming an attempt to barge past Thranduil and make way for the door an impossible and dangerous feat, Haldir opted to close his eyes and simply brace himself for what may come. Verbal abuse seemed to be the Elvenking’s favourite, so Haldir was (not) mentally prepared for any insults the other fancied throwing his direction today. Instead of being met with words laced with poison, Haldir heard the sound of a hand grasping something from the side of him before the footsteps came to a stop in front of him. The younger elf was confused, and he considered opening his mouth to say something before he felt a harsh flick to his forehead, to which he let out a quiet yelp and pressed his own palm against the abused area. He opened an eye to look up at his in-law, analysing the look of confusion mixed with frustration on his face. “And why, pray tell, are we closing our eyes, Haldir? Are you frightened?”
“A little bit, Sir.”
A sigh left Thranduil’s mouth. “At least you are honest.”
”Yes, My Lord…”
Thranduil seemed to hesitate for a moment before raising a finger - the same one he had previously flicked the Marchwarden with - to poke at the hand that was now pressed against Haldir’s forehead. “Move your hand out of the way.” He commanded. Haldir hesitated before slowly moving his hand back down to rest at his side - as he did this, Thranduil revealed his other hand which was behind his back the entire time, presenting the other with a wooden box, one which was decorated with a black metal fashioned into mirrored patterns. This same coloured metal created the hinges on the box and the opening clip at the front.
Once again, Haldir tilted his head with curiosity and confusion. “A box, sir?” Thranduil remained quiet as he moved to open the box, revealing a rather delicate crown, not unlike the crowns the other males in the family wore. Haldir marvelled at the sight of the crown, observing the details of it - the crown was a simple silver, separate parts of it weaved together to form the illusion of vines or twisted tree trunks, but done so in a mirrored, tasteful manner. At the centre of it, there was a small blue gem, which Haldir noted was the same shade of blue as the ribbons Rhavaniel wore in her hair. Daring to step closer, Haldir peered further into the box, and he noted how the crown was surrounded with a plush velvet, obviously meant to keep the crown safe in the box when it was not being worn.
“This is yours, Haldir.” The Marchwarden looked up at Thranduil with an expression of pure shock. “You cannot be serious, My Lord?”
”Do I look as if I am joking?” Haldir blinked, watching the Elvenking’s face for a moment or two. “No, sir.” He commented. “Then, allow me to repeat myself; this is yours.” Thranduil moved past Haldir and carefully placed the box onto the table before reaching in, taking hold of the crown with two hands. He held the crown with such ease and care, it was obvious that he handled his own crowns on the daily. Well, obviously, Haldir thought as he attempted to hold back a chuckle, He is a King, after all. However, I wouldn’t put it past him to sit and gaze at his crown collection for a few hours everyday and have a little fashion show with them. “It seems I have lost your attention.”
“No sir, you have my undivided attention.”
“Very good.” As Thranduil spoke, he approached Haldir once more, the crown in his hands. Carefully, he moved to place the crown atop the younger elf’s head, brushing a few stray hairs out of the way. He then stepped back and looked at the other, observing him silently. Haldir began to grow slightly uncomfortable but tried his hardest to not fidget.
“It looks perfect on you… iondion-nin.”
Haldir froze. …did he just hear Thranduil Oropherion right? Were his ears working? Iondion-nin? Iondion-nin? Did the great Elvenking just call Haldir, the very elf he has been verbally harassing for a few centuries, his grandson?
Haldir looked up at Thranduil. He wanted to speak, but he was simply in shock, so he only managed to stare directly at the Elvenking. “You heard me correctly,” Thranduil began, seeming to already understand the reasoning behind Haldir’s stunned silence, “All this time, I have treated you unfairly. I resented the fact that my precious iondiel was to be taken from me, and I took my anger out on you as you were the root of the problem.” He paused, taking a moment to consider his next words. “I never meant for it to become personal… however, my nerves seemed to get the better of me. And for that, I deeply apologise to you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” Thranduil remained quiet for a moment, glancing at Haldir. “…you make Vania immensely happy, that I can see easily, even as someone who is half-blind.” Haldir almost snickered. Thranduil continued. “And for that, I thank you… and… I am proud. Proud to call you my grandson. Much like the crown, this is long overdue, however…” Thranduil smiled gently, opening his arms, “Welcome to the family, Haldir.”
As Haldir observed the display in front of him, he felt his heart melt as each second passed by. When Thranduil stated that he was proud of Haldir, the younger elf almost burst into tears but managed to compose himself - but now that the Elvenking was stood before him, arms open without any negative or threatening feelings, Haldir struggled to compose himself. Tears began to flow freely down his cheeks as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms carefully around his grandfather’s waist, feeling the welcoming warmth envelope him as Thranduil held him.
“Hannon le, daeradar.”
“Guren vell?” Haldir called as he opened the door to the library, stepping inside with a smile on his face. Upon hearing her husband’s voice, Rhavaniel immediately turned around, a mirroring smile on her own face. “Haldir! You’re back!” She immediately stood and swiftly made her way towards her husband, the blanket still hanging off her shoulders. She paused, stopping when she saw a crown atop her husband’s head.
“…daeradar… gave this to you?” She questioned.
“He did.” Rhavaniel smiled.
”It suits you, meleth.” She stepped forward, cupping his cheeks once again as she gazed at the crown. “You look very handsome in it, caun vuin nin~” she whispered as she pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, “Gi melin, Haldir.” Haldir smiled, a gentle blush dusting his cheeks as he whispered back “Gi melin hiril vuin nin. Forever and always.”