Chapter Text
Thranduil often wondered why his tears were salty, just like seawater; he liked to believe that maybe he belonged there, but not in the way his family wanted him to. Thranduil was seven, and though he didn't know much of himself and the world he lived in yet, he was sure of one thing: the destiny that was forced onto him wasn't the one he wanted.
However, Thranduil loved the island he lived on. It was his home, with its green forests full of wonderful trees, plants, and flowers; its hidden places and its never ending beach. He loved it, more than anything, and disappeared out the door as soon as he was freed from his lessons, seeking quiet time, or adventures when the mood struck.
But today was different; he had fled without permission. His father had left once again earlier in the morning, leaving him with his tutor, Mr. Lawson, and the mansion's staff for the next six months. And oh, how Thranduil hated Mr. Lawson.
Thranduil was a lonely boy. He didn't have any friends other than his father, the Lady Galadriel, and the ones he imagined. But his father was gone often, Lady Galadriel couldn't spend most of her time with him when she visited, and imaginary friends couldn't be touched.
He had once tried to go to the small town at the other end of the island, but he hadn't had the time to make friends, nor even to actually reach it. Mr. Lawson had made it clear that was not to happen again, or there would be consequences. Thranduil was young, but not stupid; he knew when he couldn't win, and he didn't want this father to be mad at him once he returned.
Thranduil walked barefoot near the water's edge, away from the white, burning sand of the beach; he traced angry lines with the tip of a stick he had picked up earlier, then repeatedly hit the ground with all his strength. He stopped to sigh and wipe the tears off his cheeks, before he looked around, having had enough of staring at the ground.
The beach was empty, as it always was; none but those from the mansion lived on this side of the island. Thranduil felt small here, but also free, and that was what mattered most to him. He took a deep breath, and kept on walking.
He would be back in time for dinner, and hopefully wouldn't get too scolded for his disappearance. It wasn't as if this was the first time, anyways. At least he didn't get grounded for it anymore, as had been ordered by his father. Oropher had been clear; his son could go and about as he pleased. But Mr. Lawson wanted to be warned about Thranduil’s whereabouts, something Thranduil didn’t think about.
It was the last thing on his mind when he ran out of the mansion in tears, every time his father left for another few months.
Thranduil’s eyes got lost in the vast blue expanse on his right, as he felt the soft waves breaking against his feet. It helped him calm down, as it always did. Sometimes he walked through the forest, climbed up the trees, and it brought upon him a similar peace, though in many ways they were different. The forest was full of life, full of a fauna Thranduil could see and hear. He loved listening to the chirping of the birds, and waiting in the trees to see some of the animals the woods hid.
But he loved the beach too, for how relaxing it was. Lady Galadriel had once told him how impressed she was by how he could appreciate those things at such a young age, and that he should cherish every second of it.
And he did, for he had little else .
Just as he felt tears threatening to fall down his cheeks again, Thranduil looked away from the sea; he stopped, and blinked. He squinted, his eyes adjusting to the sunlight, trying to see further ahead. There was something on the beach.
Today was not supposed to be a special day by any means, or so he had thought.
All Thranduil could see from where he stood was a blue colour. He frowned as he started walking again, though a little faster; beached animals were usually dead before he got to them, but he swore he had seen this one moving in the distance.
Thranduil's eyes grew wider and wider as he got closer, only to stop and stare a few feet away from the creature.
But it wasn't just any creature.
It wasn't much longer than Thranduil was tall, its tail was of a beautiful, light blue, and parts of its skin seemed burned from the sun. It was stuck in a broken fish net, the ropes cutting at its sides. It seemed weak, but it was alive, for it tried to get itself out of the net, and Thranduil could hear its panicked breath.
It was a merman, it had to be. But merpeople weren't so small, were they?
They were described as creatures similar to men in physique, save for their tail and their ability to live under sea and lakes, but not in behavior; for the merfolk were parasites, eating the fish men needed, and were nothing more than animals. Like monkeys, though more clever. It was known they could talk and, sailors said, it was what made them dangerous. Language was another thing they had stolen from them.
They were killed on sight, for it was what was done to parasites. Didn’t one get rid of a mouse eating their grain?
Thranduil wondered if it meant he had to kill it.
Thranduil felt his hands shake, and his grip on the stick grow tighter. He looked around, but saw nothing but empty space. He was still alone, like he always was.
Tentatively, he got just slightly closer, and reached out with his stick. Its tip hit the creature's back, who abruptly froze as it let out a small whimper of pain. Thranduil took a deep breath, before he walked around the creature.
Thranduil had never been more scared in his entire life. He was about to see what a mer looked like for the first time. But then he frowned, for it looked like a boy, not much older than he was. Its dark brown, curled hair reached its shoulders, framing its face. It was thin, Thranduil noticed; not something one would expect from a food stealer. But maybe it was because it looked like a child.
Finally, Thranduil met its eyes. They were hazel, and filled with more fear than Thranduil himself felt. It struck him then, that this creature was utterly terrified. Terrified of him. Nothing had ever been afraid of him.
The merboy was breathing heavily, its eyes widened, and it stared at Thranduil like a wild, frightened animal. Thranduil found he hated being the cause of that.
He didn't know what to do, until then; but as he watched this young mer, Thranduil refused to believe it would cause him any harm. He refused to kill it as the laws said. He had never understood those laws anyways.
Thranduil took another step forward. His action seemed to snap the creature back into moving; as Thranduil crouched before it, it tried to get free from the thin ropes with more vigor. Thranduil let go of the stick, hoping it would understand he had no intention of hurting. Though the merboy looked surprised, it didn't stop trying to get away.
“Stop moving,” Thranduil protested, closing his hands on the creature's shoulders, keeping it in place. “I'm trying to help you!”
Doubt instantly tainted the mer's gaze, but it finally stopped, though it was still trembling. Thranduil could almost see all the confused thoughts that were crossing its mind.
Thranduil reached for the sheath hanging to his belt; he always had a small knife with him, which had proved itself useful many times during his explorations of the forest. As he took it off, the creature let out a small cry of fear, and stiffened under Thranduil's hand.
“P—please don't kill me,” it implored, tears filling its eyes. “Please don't kill me!”
Thranduil stopped in his action, gaping.
It talked. It really talked.
“I'm not going to kill you,” Thranduil said as soon as he had composed himself, sounding as reassuring as he could manage. “I'm going to cut the net, okay?”
The creature only stared, before it slowly nodded. It was still tense, but as soon as Thranduil cut the first knot, it seemed to relax a little more.
“Are you alright?” Thranduil asked, cutting another. He couldn't think of anything else to say. Thranduil knew he shouldn't talk to it, but he was curious. He hadn't been this curious in a long time, actually; the feeling was almost exhilarating.
The merboy stared again, the confusion in its eyes growing with each second. Thranduil himself couldn't believe what was happening. His little escapade had taken an unexpected turn, which was just as exciting as it was scary.
“It hurts,” it whispered after a moment, uncertainty tainting its words.
Thranduil said nothing as he finished cutting the ropes. He didn't doubt it did, given the cuts on the mer's skin, the sun burns on his back and shoulders. Even its tail looked a little damaged.
Then, he put the knife back in its sheath, and proceeded to get the creature out. It shivered under his touch, and unsuccessfully tried to back away. Thranduil ignored it, concentrated on his task even though he sometimes had to look around to make sure no one was coming their way; no one ever did, but if there was one thing he had learned from wandering the forest, it was that one was never too careful.
Besides, he was aware he was doing something he could be grounded for, and that could definitely not happen. He didn't know what he would do, if Mr. Lawson found a way to stop him from going outside. Thranduil had no doubt the creature would be hurt, too, and Thranduil didn’t know how he felt about that. It seemed to be the same age as him, though. Surely people didn't kill children, did they?
“There,” Thranduil said when he was done, tossing away bits of the net.
The mer didn't move, its breathing still hurried and its eyes filled with a mix of strong emotions. Thranduil didn't understand why it seemed so surprised; the creature was so similar to him, how could he decide to hurt it upon noticing that?
“Do you need help to go back there?” Thranduil asked, with a small gesture to the sea.
The creature slowly nodded, but it didn't meet Thranduil's eyes, as if it was ashamed of the help it had to ask for. Thranduil didn't pay attention, but his own heart beat fast against his chest; he didn't touch people much, and certainly not this way.
Thranduil took another deep breath before he slid an arm under the mer's shoulder, the other under its tail. Thranduil winced in half-disgust; it felt new and weird and fishy, though less than he imagined. He took mental note to find a fish back at the mansion to see if there was a difference.
It weighed more than expected, and carrying it on the few meters separating them from a respectable level of water proved itself difficult; Thranduil was proud of himself when he let go of the creature, who sighed of relief as soon as its body hit the cool water.
Now at a good distance, they stared at each other, but not like wolves, no; more like two young, curious dogs discovering the other for the first time. Only then did questions upon questions pop into Thranduil's mind. This creature, it wasn't anything like he had been told. It wasn't dirty, stupid, or aggressive—actually, it was exactly like he was, apart from the tail. It looked just like a boy, and Thranduil couldn’t quite grasp why they were considered animals, now that he had one of them before him.
“Thank you,” the merboy said after a short moment, shooting him a small smile.
“It's okay,” Thranduil said.
“You're different,” it added, tilting its head slightly to the side. Thranduil meant to answer, but in one swift movement it turned, and disappeared under the water.
“Wait—” Thranduil exclaimed, but it didn't turn back. “Will you come back?”
There was no answer, leaving Thranduil alone once again, having some difficulty believing what had just happened to him. Maybe he would wake up in his room, and everything would be boring again; but it felt very much real, and he could feel enthusiasm building inside his chest, like a wave of fresh air ready to fall upon him.
Thranduil couldn't put words on how he felt; it had been weird, to talk to someone new. So very weird and exciting, and that was why he wanted to talk to it again. He wanted to learn more about it, ask its name if it had one. Maybe even they could be friends!
It was that thought that pushed him back into action. Thranduil smiled and walked out of the water, eager to go home, sleep, and go back the next morning in hopes the mer would be there. He really hoped it would. Thranduil's curiosity had found a new purpose, and his day had taken a pleasant turn; he felt as if whatever would happen next, his excitement couldn't be taken away from him.
And that? That was new.
Thranduil took his time going back to the mansion, knowing from the sun that he wasn't late at all. He shot looks to the sea from time to time, hoping he would see the merboy; but there was no one, and Thranduil sighed to himself.
Soon enough the mansion appeared in sight; huge and white and glorious, surrounded by grass mixed with sand and earth. There were many flowers closer to the walls, which Thranduil loved to smell and admire.
Thranduil had been wrong, though, for as soon as he opened the doors of his home, he was reminded of who lived in the mansion with him; Mr. Lawson appeared out of a room, and went straight towards Thranduil. He was a tall man with blond hair, green eyes, and there was a dangerous, suffocating aura around him. He caught the boy's arm, shook it off a little as Thranduil tried to free himself from his grip.
“What on Earth happened to you?” Mr. Lawson exclaimed, pointing to Thranduil's wet clothes with the tip of his finger, and pinched harshly his arm with the other hand.
“I—I thought I saw a dolphin,” Thranduil lied. “I hoped we could be friends.”
Mr. Lawson rolled his eyes exasperatedly; Thranduil knew he didn't like him, either.
“Come on, go clean yourself up,” he instructed Thranduil, letting him go with a small slap to his arm. “Don't be late for dinner.”
“Yes, sir,” Thranduil muttered, though he held his head proudly as he walked away, going to his bathroom. He went up the stairs, through his room and then closed the door of the bathroom, letting out a sigh as he did so.
There was no one he hated more than Mr. Lawson; he was mean, when he wasn't teaching. Lessons were alright, though boring because Thranduil was clever, giving no reason for Mr. Lawson to annoy him.
Thranduil changed clothes after he had brushed his hair and washed his salty skin with cold water. Then, he went back into his room and picked up Westley from the bed, and opened the window. There on the terrace, he pointed to the sea, then smiled to the teddy bear.
“What do you think about it, Westley?” he asked. “Uh-uh, uh-uh. Yes, I agree.”
He hugged the plushie close, then planted a kiss on its forehead.
“I hope I'll see it again,” Thranduil whispered. “Maybe it could be my friend.”
There was a knock on the door then, and one of the servants poked his head inside.
“Mr. Thranduil, dinner will be served soon,” he announced.
“I'm coming!”
The servant left, and Thranduil took another minute to stare at the sea, wishing he could go back already. His mind then drifted off to the forest; he wanted to go back there, too, to find again the cascade he had come across a few days earlier, while following the river.
It was time to go, though, and with a last look behind him, he went to put Westley back on the bed, before he left the bedroom and ran down the stairs to the dining hall.
His home was huge, but he knew it by heart; it seemed to him there were a hundred rooms, but it wasn't actually that many, for Thranduil had counted them. There were sixty-three, and Thranduil had a lot of time on his hands to spend playing hide and seek with his father inside them, would he was available. But what he loved most was when Lady Galadriel played with him.
She hadn't come to the mansion in weeks, though, and Thranduil missed her.
Thranduil walked through corridors on whose walls were hanging all sorts of paintings; he knew all of them as well, and so he disappeared behind the largest one (a portrait of his great-grandfather), which lead closer to the dining hall.
There was nothing Thranduil didn't know about his home. That knowledge was his family’s secret, and that was how he managed to escape the mansion so easily, without Mr. Lawson ever being able to follow him.
He entered the dining hall, and sighed of relief when he noticed that, thankfully, Mr. Lawson wasn't there yet; he wouldn't be scolded again.
Thranduil sat at the carved table where dinner had already been served; red meat, potatoes and carrots, and salads, along with various kind of desserts.
He waited about five more minutes before his tutor finally arrived. Thranduil frowned at how his tunic and hair were all messed up, but he didn't try to understand. He thought the big grapes right before him were much more interesting; surely Miss Anderson had put them there just for him.
Mr. Lawson sat in his seat and started eating, without a word. Thranduil didn't say anything, either, and served himself in the plates at his disposition. He picked a small piece of meat, and lots of potatoes and carrots.
Then, still in silence, he started eating. It wasn't much different than usual.
“Mr. Lawson?” Thranduil asked when he had almost finished his plate. “What do you know about merpeople?”
Mr. Lawson snorted, raised an eyebrow at Thranduil.
“They're disgusting parasites, that's all there is to know,” he answered, before he bit in his piece of meat. Sauce rolled down his chin. He wasn't finished chewing when he spoke again. “Why?”
“I just wondered,” Thranduil said quietly, and went back to eating the vegetables in his plate. He found Mr. Lawson disgusting, but it wasn't something he was allowed to say, though he thought it very hard.
“When is Ada coming back?” he asked next, sounding much more interested than he had been a minute earlier.
“Six months, probably,” Mr. Lawson merely answered, as he wiped the sauce with his sleeve.
“When is Lady Galadriel visiting?”
“Do you ever stop asking questions?” Mr. Lawson complained as he sent Thranduil a menacing look. “I don't know, you'll just have to wait.”
Thranduil didn't talk any more after that; he just finished his dinner, and went to thank Miss Anderson for the grapes. Then, he brought his dessert to his room as he always did.
He ate the fruits in his bed, holding Westley close as he tried to read a book; he was still slow, but he improved every day. Mr. Lawson had told him he had learned faster than most children did, and he had felt rather proud. Not when his tutor had told him, though, but once Lady Galadriel had confirmed it.
Thranduil was very tired when he was done, but he stood nonetheless and went to the terrace once again. There, he looked up to the stars, just like he used to with his mother before she left for the place people went to when it was time for them to leave this world. She had told him that they went to live in the sky, so they could watch upon those who stayed.
Thranduil loved the stars; he just missed staring up at them with someone. Well, he had Westley, but Westley didn't seem much interested in them.
“Goodnight, naneth,” Thranduil said.
His head between the bars of the balcony, Thranduil stayed there until he felt his eyes closing themselves and being unable to control them; only then did he close the door and lay on his bed, wrapping himself up in the soft silken sheets.
Before he fell asleep, his thoughts were directed towards the beach, and the mer he had met there; Thranduil wondered if it was going to sleep too, what was upon its mind and if it would come back near the shore to meet him again. Maybe they shared the same thoughts, the same curiosity. Thranduil hoped he would know soon enough.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, it was to see the soft pink of dawn in the sky. Thranduil rubbed his eyes, and yawned. Westley was still was in his arms, and Thranduil kissed his cheek.
“Good morning, Westley,” he whispered to the teddy bear's ear. Then Thranduil put him back under the sheets, his head on the pillow. Thranduil stretched, and suddenly he remembered the events of the day before. He jumped from his bed in excitement, and ran to the bathroom. There he quickly got himself ready for the day, before he ran down the stairs to the kitchens.
He picked up more grapes, black this time, and some slices of bread, and disappeared down the corridors of the mansion to one of the many ways out. He wasn't worried about being scolded for not being there for breakfast; it was Saturday, and this day he could spend as he pleased. He had no lessons, and no obligation to eat with Mr. Lawson, apart from in the evening.
Thranduil ran to the beach, and only when his feet were in the water did he realize he had no idea of where to go. He looked around, but saw no creature of the sea waiting for him.
His shoulders slumped in disappointment. Why had he believed the mer would be back? Surely it hadn't heard him when Thranduil had asked. Surely it didn't even want to meet with him again. Why would it, anyway?
Thranduil sighed and walked along the water; it was cold, but not enough for him to get out of its reach. The air was cold as well, but Thranduil didn't mind its bite. He knew it would warm up soon, once the sun was higher in the sky.
He thought about the day before and picked up sea shells from the ground, keeping those he found pretty enough to add to the little chest he kept inside his room; he had promised Lady Galadriel he would make a necklace for her, and so it had to be beyond perfect.
Thranduil stopped walking when he reached the dock, and sat on the sand below it. There he let his gaze get lost in the apparent infinity of the ocean, wondering how far it stretched, if it even stopped somewhere. Thranduil had asked his father once, who had answered that as far as he had gone, no matter the fact that he always found land, the ocean never seemed to truly end.
It made Thranduil want to discover it all by himself, and when he had told his father so, Oropher had seemed glad, almost proud; he hadn't understood it in the way Thranduil had meant it. For Thranduil didn't want to follow his father's steps.
He wanted to be free, to have amazing adventures he could describe with great words that he would put on paper and keep to himself to read when he wanted to live them again. Thranduil closed his eyes, imagined that being how future would be, and hoped it would be soon; if he could, he would build a boat and leave. But Thranduil wasn't good with his hands, and he loved his island, his beach and his forest. He also didn't want to have those adventures alone. He wanted to have a friend to share them with.
It was as he thought this that he heard movement not far from where he sat. He turned his head, and his eyes widened in surprise and joy as he saw the mer from the day before, looking at him from a respectable distance, with only its head popping up from the water.
Its eyes were uncertain, as if it feared to get closer. Thranduil wondered why; he had helped it, and he was only a boy. It had nothing to fear from him.
“You came back!” Thranduil beamed, getting up and walking closer until the water reached his waist.
The creature opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and sank his head slightly deeper, his eyes and the top of his head now the only things Thranduil could see of him.
“Why are you shy?” Thranduil asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.
The mer frowned, raised itself just enough so it could speak.
“I'm not shy,” it said. “I'm careful.”
“I'm not going to eat you,” Thranduil said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
It hesitated just a moment longer before it sighed and swam to Thranduil, stopping just out of hand's reach. Thranduil felt as if he was being inspected. Thranduil met its eyes, hoping it would say something instead of just staring at him the way it did now.
“Are you a he, or a she, or—?” Thranduil asked then to break the silence, swaying uncomfortably on his feet. He thought it was rude, to ask such a question, but he'd feel bad to keep thinking 'it'.
The mer chuckled, flapping its tail; it appeared out of the water for a few seconds, and Thranduil thought it really was beautiful, nothing like he had ever seen.
“I'm Bard,” it said, apparently feeling reassured enough to talk.
A he, then.
“I'm Thranduil.”
“Is that a boy or a girl's, or both's name?” Bard asked sheepishly, and Thranduil couldn't help his blush. He didn't quite understand what Bard meant by 'both', and he didn't know how to feel about how Bard couldn't figure out he was a boy, though he found he didn’t mind.
“A boy's.”
“Okay,” Bard merely replied. He looked into Thranduil's eyes, searching them as if he was trying to find something. Thranduil guessed he didn't find it, for he frowned again.
“Why were you crying, the other day?” Bard asked.
“I wasn't crying,” Thranduil said defensively. He hoped his lie couldn't be heard in his voice; he was good at lying, but he still wondered. Living with Mr. Lawson had forced him to become rather good at it, but it didn't make him proud in any way. At least, not when he lied to someone other than his tutor.
“Yes you were,” Bard said, with a shrug.
“No I wasn't!” Thranduil exclaimed, his voice taking a defensive tone.
“Stop lying!” Bard snapped. “Why are you ashamed of it?”
Thranduil had opened his mouth to snap back, but he stopped himself. Instead, he blinked and stared at the merboy, confusion painted all over his face. Why was he ashamed? Did Bard really think there was no reason to be? It made no sense, did it?
“Boys don't cry,” Thranduil merely said.
“Of course they do.” Bard shrugged again. “Why were you crying?”
“I was just sad,” Thranduil answered, his body stiff; he didn't want Bard to mock him, but he continued anyway under the pressure of the merboy's curious gaze. “My father left again. He won't be back for months.”
Bard's eyes softened, before a small light brightened them up.
“Is he the one who's got the big pretty boat?” he asked.
“Yes, I guess,” Thranduil replied. “It's the only boat that was around here lately—do you really like it?”
“Oh, yes!” Bard exclaimed. “I always come to see it when it comes back here. It's a good boat; it doesn't have any nets on it.”
Thranduil couldn't stop a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth; he was happy, to hear that the merboy liked his father's boat. Thranduil loved it, too, and he had told Father so many times. He was just sad that, every time he did, Oropher always reminded him the boat would one day be his, when he would take on the family business.
Bard smiled back, and Thranduil watched curiously as he made a full turn on himself. It seemed like a way to show he was happy, too. But as he did so, Thranduil noticed the damaged skin of his back, and he remembered the state in which he had found—and left—Bard.
“Does it hurt?” Thranduil asked, concern in his voice.
“Nah, it's okay,” Bard said. “Mam put algae on it, she says it'll be fine.”
Thranduil nodded slowly, and a rather awkward silence fell between them. He turned, then, and went to sit in the water; Bard followed him, and this way he could lie on his belly. He seemed to be feeling comfortable there, just as Thranduil was.
Bard put his head between his hands, and looked up to Thranduil with curious eyes. He didn't say anything, and Thranduil had to look away for a second; he wasn't used to being the centre of someone's attention, and the weight, though kind, of Bard's gaze on him was impossible for him to ignore.
Thranduil found it was the right time to ask the question that had been on his mind from the beginning. He looked around first, making sure no one would arrive. It was useless, though; Thranduil wondered if it was even necessary for him to check since Bard himself kept giving glances around whenever he got the chance.
“Why did you come back?”
“I told you: you're different,” Bard replied tentatively. “Why did you?”
“You're nothing like I heard your people are,” Thranduil said. “Do you want to be my friend?”
Thranduil hadn't been able to stop himself; he desperately wanted to have a friend, and Bard was kind to him. He still wanted to learn everything about him, though; to know what it was like to live in the ocean, and go wherever he wished.
Bard's eyes widened, and he flapped his tail under the clear water. Then, as he seemed to realize Thranduil was being serious, a wide smile brightened up his face.
“Sure!” he beamed, then quiet wonder took its place in his gaze. “You really are different.”
“Why?” Thranduil wondered aloud.
“Well, because men are very mean,” Bard said flatly, though his eyes took a darker light, only to soften again. “Mam told me men are cruel; they kill us as soon as they get the chance. But you didn't even hurt me, so you're different.”
Just as Bard did, Thranduil shivered; at first, he wanted to protest, say men were not mean. But then Mr. Lawson appeared in his mind, and he stopped himself just in time.
“You're different, too,” Thranduil said, extending his hand to point at Bard's chest, making him frown.
“Why?” he asked in turn.
“You don't look like a parasite,” Thranduil explained as he looked down to bury his fingers in the sand under the water. He caught a glimpse of Bard's pained expression though, and regretted his words, even though he wasn't doing anything but repeating what he had been told all his life. “Your tail is very pretty.”
“You really think so?” Bard inquired.
“Yes, I love its colour,” Thranduil said, looking up to him again. Blush spread over Bard's cheeks, and Thranduil chuckled.
“Thank you,” Bard said. “I like your hair.”
It was Thranduil's turn to blush. No one but his mother and Lady Galadriel had ever complimented him on his hair before. Mr. Lawson said it was too long, and his father never paid much attention to it.
“Mr. Lawson said you're parasites stealing our fish—but I don't believe him,” he said to change the subject, before his cheeks could turn completely red.
“Stealing your fish?” Bard's eyes widened in surprise, then he grimaced. “We don't eat fish, that's disgusting.”
Thranduil smiled, amused, but he was genuinely curious as he asked his next question. “What do you eat, then?”
“Algae and plants.” Bard shrugged. “Don't you eat those?”
“Never. We eat meat, vegetables, and fruits.”
“What's that?”
“You don't know? I'll bring you some if you want!” Thranduil offered, and beamed at the way Bard's face brightened up.
“Great!” he exclaimed. “Do you want to taste our food, too?”
Thranduil gladly agreed, and for the next few hours the boy and the merboy talked and talked and talked, forgetting the world around them and being lucky not to be noticed. They went separate ways with the promise to see each other again two days later. Thranduil told Bard he would bring him oranges and grapes for him to taste, and Bard some weird sounding food his people prepared.
It was with a bright smile on his face that Thranduil went home that evening, his stomach growling and his head filled with excitement; he couldn't believe he had made a friend, here in this place he thought he would only share with people he knew already. And what a special friend it was!
“Why do you look so happy?” Mr. Lawson had growled during dinner, to which Thranduil had lied and said he had managed to see the dolphin from the day before. His tutor had rolled his eyes, and Thranduil had quickly finished his plate to go back to his room.
He talked of Bard to the stars before he went back to his bed to retrieve Westley, and hugged him close.
“I hope you don't mind,” Thranduil told his teddy bear, “that I found another friend.”
He put his ear closer to Westley's mouth, then smiled.
“I'm glad you understand,” Thranduil said. “I promise I'm not replacing you, and I hope you'll find a new friend, too.”
Then he sat on the terrace floor, and he watched the horizon until his eyes closed, and dreams took him far from home.