Chapter Text
It's been 50 years since the battle with men and elves in Dagorlad and Thranduil still feels the sting of his father's death. The Elven King Oropher died in battle due to little provisions to keep himself and his soldiers safe. After receiving the news of his father's death, young Thranduil had turned cold and bitter and returned to his kingdom in the forest of Mirkwood. Thranduil and his father had a close bond with each other ever since the young prince's life began. Thranduil's mother had passed away while giving birth to the heir of the throne. Oropher not once turned a cold shoulder nor had he blamed his son for the passing of his wife but instead he raised Thranduil and had taught his son everything he needed to know in life. How to hunt, how to fight and how to make strategic battle choices. However there was nothing that Oropher could do to prepare Thranduil for the unexpected death of his beloved father. The news hit him excruciatingly hard and Thranduil's enemy knew this.
"My King!" an elven guard came into the throne room with great haste and made his way to Thranduil's perch. The Elven King looked up from his long gaze towards the floor and met the eyes of the guard.
"Well, speak." The King ordered. The guards confidence wavered by his king's cold and condescending tone.
"A pack of orcs are attacking one of our villages. They need our aid."
"We cannot spare our soldiers to fight a small pack orcs."
"But my lord the people-"
"Do you doubt my judgement? Do you not trust your king?"
"No my lord. I live to serve you." The guard bowed down to his king. Thranduil dismissed the elven guard and closed his eyes. In the corner of the grand throne room the council members were talking in a ground. One of Thranduil's council members had approached the throne and had said,
"My King. We think it wise if you send the troops to defend the village. They need our aid and that is what your father would do."
"I appreciate the advice the council has given, but our troops will remain here. Why should we risk the lives of our troops for lowly elves?" The council member took a step forward.
"Because they are your people. If you expect a great king like your father was-"
"We do not speak of my father." Thranduil raised himself off his throne and made his way to his bed chambers. "I am going to lay down. Do not disturb me unless there is a just cause."
***
Thranduil had woken up and sat up in his bed. He looked around his room and had noticed that the doors to the balcony were open. Thranduil had gotten out of bed and had stepped out onto the balcony to survey his kingdom. There were leaves of green as far as the eye can see. Off in the short distance Thranduil could see where they had cleared away trees to create a large paddock for livestock. Memories had started to flood back to Thranduil. Memories of him and his father and the adventures they had in the kingdom. Thranduil shook the thoughts away and started to go into the throne room. Once he reached the room Thranduil saw his council members were talking amongst each other but then fell silent when they saw their king.
"What were you discussing?"
"My lord, the village. It was destroyed. There were only a few survivors." The king paused while walking up the winding steps to his throne.
"We as the council respectfully advise you to go to the village and support your people. News of the orc attack will spread to the other villages and they will question why their king has not taken action. You must tend to your people." Thranduil turned around and faced the council. Thranduil exchanged looks with each of his advisors and then made his decision.
"We will go."