Vulnerability

Title: Vulnerability
Author: Serenity
Author's Email: [email protected]
Pairings: None
Rating: R
Summary: Oropher has something terrible to tell his son.
Disclaimer: I don't own them; they belong to Tolkien.
Warnings: Hints of non-con
Author's Notes: Below

*****

Oropher's legs threatened to buckle underneath him as he stumbled down the deserted hallway.  The irrational fear gripping his mind had turned his blood to ice and his stomach to iron.  Hurrying as much as he was able, the Sinda Prince stumbled into the innocuous room hidden in the torch shadows.

The door opened quietly, flooding the dark hallway with friendly golden light.  Oropher stopped just beyond the threshold, stifling his sigh of relief. 

Sagging against the wall, he watched his young son build a castle out of colorful wooden blocks.  A pink tongue stuck out as Thranduil's brow creased in concentration, his hand gently placing a block on the wobbly stack ready to give way.  Oropher found himself drawn in, willing the stack to hold, the block to stay still. 

With a little cry of delight, his golden angel jumped back watching the tall stack sway for a moment before settling.  Little Thranduil watched it for a moment before drawing a bright orange block from his pile.  Oropher was startled when Thranduil threw the block at his carefully stacked pile, which promptly tumbled down.

Giggling, Thranduil immediately set out to rebuild the tall stack.  The silver-haired elf watched his son with a heavy heart.  What am I going to do? he thought.  I can't do this alone.  How am I going to tell him?

The image of his wife's pale face flashed behind his eyelids and a shiver went up his spine.  She didn't deserve her fate, food for spiders, her body sucked dry.  Oropher felt a little queasy.  He barely knew her, though she had seemed nice enough, certainly a good mother for his son, willing to keep his secrets and play her role.  He promised himself he would treat her better than his aunt had been treated. 

But now he was alone again with no one to turn to but himself.  A shiver of dread ran through him; he didn't think he could do that again. 

"Daddy!" Thranduil piped up, finally spying his tall father hiding in the doorway.  Picking up a well-worn toy horse, he scurried to the entrance, raising his arms to be lifted up.  Oropher obliged him, grasping him tightly to his chest, breathing in his fresh scent of pine, feeling the steady beat of the heart beneath his hand. 

Sensing his father's distress, Thranduil remained still, letting his strong father hold him close.  "Here daddy," he said quietly, putting the toy under Oropher's nose in the hopes of cheering him up. 

Touched, the young elf took the toy and walked into the cozy room.  He sat in the old rocking chair he used to rock Thranduil asleep in when he was a baby only a few years ago.  Settling his son on his knee, Oropher looked seriously at the elfling. 

Thranduil turned startling golden eyes to his father's handsome face, waiting quietly to learn why his beloved father was so grave.  He absently patted the strong arm holding him in what he felt was a comforting gesture.  Orohper's expression softened and he kissed his son's golden head.

"I have something very important to tell you, Golden Heart."

"Okay, daddy," Thranduil said innocently, looking trustingly at his father.

"You know your mother went out riding yesterday, remember?" Orohper asked.  Thranduil nodded emphatically, smiling that he did indeed recall.

"Yes, daddy.  She was going to visit her friend so she could exercise her new horse you gave her, and she should've been back last night, but she didn't come back and everyone was worried and you sent out guards to go get her and then you walked back and forth in the hallway all morning and were still doing it when Gweluien took me for my lessons and then she left me here to play and then you came," he said brightly, happy to explain the course of events.  Unconsciously, he took back the toy from his father's loose fingers.

Despite the pang in his heart, the young father smiled at his son's enthusiasm.  "Very good, Little Leaf.  You remembered everything very well," he dutifully praised.  Thranduil simply beamed, warming the ice in Oropher's veins, but the weight on his heart remained unmoved.

"You're mother has been found," Oropher said gravely, a tone completely lost on his little son.

"Then you can stop worrying," Thranduil said happily, waving his horse dangerously close to his father's head.  "Will she read me a story tonight?" he asked innocently.  Oropher closed his eyes in pain.

"I'm afraid not, Little Leaf."

"Oh," the elfling said, trying to hide his disappointment.  "Then she will tell me one tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.  Oropher sighed, holding his son close.

"I'm afraid not.  Your mother can't tell you any more bedtime stories."

"Why not?" Thranduil demanded, his face scrunching up in a hurt expression.  Oropher quickly kissed the frown away, soothingly running his fingers through the sunshine-kissed hair. 

"I'm sure if she could, your mother would want nothing better, Little Leaf," the young prince quickly soothed.  His little boy cocked his head to the side, a frown forming between his eyebrows.

"Why can't she?" he asked, some of his father's sorrow finally getting through to him.  He fidgeted nervously the way children do when they sense something terrible has happened.

Oropher was silent for a long minute, trying to figure out what to say.  "Do you remember what I told you about the big spiders, Golden Heart?" he finally asked.  Thranduil looked at him warily; it was always a bad sign when adults switched topics without answering the question.

"Yes, daddy.  The big spiders are mean and hungry and they'd eat little elflings all up," he said, clutching his toy to his chest.  Oropher held his son a little closer so he would feel safe.  Thranduil was a brave little boy, and his father had found it necessary to talk with him about the dangers of their new home lest he wander into trouble.  It was hard to make a little elfling appreciate such danger and Oropher found he had to scare his son a little to ensure his safety.  Still, the young prince was quite proud of the fact that he had managed to do that without truly terrifying the boy.  Thranduil was not afraid of spiders but he knew better than to approach one, and that was all any parent could wish.

But spiders were still scary, and about to grow worse for his son once he realized what they could truly do to an elf.  Oropher made sure he kept eye contact with his son, looking for any hint of misunderstanding or grief.  "You are right, Little Leaf; spiders can eat elflings up. . .but, spiders can hurt full grown elves too," he said softly.

He watched the little wheels in his son's head turn as he thought about this.  His son was a bright child, so it did not take him long to jump to the obvious conclusion.  "Then did a spider hurt mommy?" he asked, hesitantly.  There was a desperate light in his eyes that begged his father to deny the question.  Oropher could only sigh, more of an answer than words to the little boy. 

"Will she get better?" the little one asked, biting his lip to keep it from trembling.  Oropher sighed again.

"Thranduil, you must listen closely.  Sometimes, when an elf is very badly hurt, their, um, inner self runs away from their body so that they won't feel hurt anymore.  Do you understand?" the prince asked, not sure he had made much sense.  Thranduil frowned, the concept a little hard for him to grasp.

"But if the spider's gone, she can come back, right?" he asked, grasping for any hope.  A pained expression flew across Oropher's handsome face, and he held his son a little closer.

"I'm afraid not, Little Leaf.  When your inner self, your fëa, runs away, it can only go to one place to find safety.  That place is very far away, across the ocean.  You remember what I said about the ocean?" the prince asked.  Thranduil nodded, his eyes wide with trepidation.  Oropher sighed, but continued. 

"Well, because the fëa has to go so very far away, it gives up on its outside, its hröa-,"

"Gives up!" Thranduil interrupted with a startled squeak, clutching his father's arm.  Oropher quickly kissed his head to soothe him.

"Shh, Golden Heart, do not fret.  Your mother's fëa may give up on the hröa you know, but eventually, after she is sure it is safe, she will make a new hröa for herself exactly like her old one.  Then, she will be with you again, but until that time, she can't be with us anymore."

Thranduil sat silently for a long time, his rosebud lip firmly entrenched between pearly white teeth.  Oropher was unsure what else to do but give his son some time to think.  The prince was fairly sure he had botched up the explanation, and that his little boy was terribly confused.  To his mind, trying to explain further would only make things worse.

Abruptly, golden eyes fastened onto green ones.  "How long will it be before mommy's inner self builds a new outer self, daddy?" he asked.  Oropher sighed.

"When she feels safe, baby, and no one can know what makes a fëa feel safe.  But I know she will return as soon as she can.  Your mother would hate to be parted from you for long," Oropher said, praying he wasn't giving his son false hope that his mother would return in the next day or two.  He would probably have to amend this little talk later, once Thranduil was used to his mother's absence, and the wound in his own heart was not so fresh.

Thranduil's expression fell, but he made a valiant attempt to stop his tears.  "I want mommy here," he whispered, burrowing into his father's chest.

"I know, baby.  Me too," Oropher said, clutching his son close, cherishing the solid feel of him in his arms.  A gentle song, barely remembered from his own childhood, rose to his lips.  Finally, the young prince gave free rein to his own tears, wetting his son's golden hair.

*****

Quietly Oropher backed out of his son's bedroom, not willing to wake the little elf.  Suddenly, a pair of strong arms caught him around the middle.  The young prince stiffened, but remained perfectly still.  A particular whiff of acrid perfume wafted under his nose, identifying his assailant.  Oropher swallowed nervously.

"And how is the grieving husband?" a cold voice hissed in his ear.  A shiver ran through the young prince, the same kind of prickling sensation that races through the nerves when one is covered with thousands of bugs crawling over exposed skin.

"Morcelu," he all but spat; his heart began to pump very fast in fear.  His breath quickened when one of the hands around his middle began to roam lower.  "What do you want?" he forced himself to say, even as he broke out in a cold sweat.

"Manners, pet!" the other elf demanded.  Despite himself, Oropher flinched at the tone, and shrank away.  He did not need to turn around to see the smirk of victory on the other elf's plain face.  The young prince felt Morcelu rub his nose against Oropher's cheek.  Another shiver of revulsion twitched along his spine.  Thankfully, the other elf was perverse enough to believe it to be a tremor of desire. 

But more disturbing yet was when Morcelu's attention shifted to the room in front of them where Thranduil was visibly sleeping.

"He sleeps so peacefully.  It would be such a shame if something happened to him," the other elf said menacingly.  Oropher's heart stopped in his chest.  He could feel the other's moist breath caress his ear.  "Remember, I can make you a grieving father in a heartbeat."

"What do you want?" Oropher said, defeated.  Morcelu chuckled, dropping a quick kiss to the young prince's cheek. 

"That's better, your majesty.  I need you to send a letter to that Noldo king."

"What, another one?  Why don't you leave him alone?  He's not bothering us; he didn't have anything to do with the kinslayings," Oropher said before he could stop himself.  The arm around his middle squeezed painfully.  The young prince drew in a pained breath.

"Silence your tongue, orc-bait!  You are unworthy of the royal blood that flows through your veins.  Those Noldor bastards killed our kin.  There can be no mercy for those who have none themselves.  The Noldor must be made to suffer as they have made us suffer.  If you can't see that, then perhaps it is time I looked for another elf to play king for me."  Morcelu glanced again at the sleeping boy.  "Perhaps your son?  Yes, perhaps I wasn't thinking along the right lines.  A grieving son might be much more useful to me then a grieving father, but you needn't worry.  I would take very good care of your son, especially considering all the work I put into his creation." Fingers came to rest at the junction on Oropher's neck and shoulder.  The young prince's breath hitched.  "I've learned from my mistakes.  He would be far more obedient than you turned out."

"No!  Please stop.  I will do whatever you ask," Oropher said desperately.  He turned in Morcelu's embrace, trying to block his view of the sleeping child.  The other elf smiled cruelly.

"Of course you will, pet," he said mockingly.  Oropher stiffened in anger, but kept his feelings carefully concealed.  His anger quickly dissolved into fear when Morcelu's smile turned lecherous.  The hand at his shoulder dropped to join the one wrapped around his middle, moving lower.  The young prince fought his natural reaction to flee. 

"Come, my king.  Let's not let this unpleasantness upset us further.  Especially as I can think of so many more . . . enjoyable things we could be doing right now." If a snake could purr then that was what Morcelu did.  Oropher swallowed nervously, but obediently followed when the other elf pulled him away. 

Behind them, Thranduil slept on undisturbed.

THE END

*****

Elrond's Corrections

Greetings,

Once again I, Elrond, will point out errors and points of interest in Serenity's work.

First, there's no evidence for or against Oropher *not* being under the control of some evil elf but doubtless, given the proud Sinda that he was, he would never have allowed such a poor excuse of an elf to come near him.

Also, I should like to point out that, though Morcelu's behavior is extremely contrary to the good nature of most elves, he does have a reason for what he does, which you will learn in subsequent stories.

Lastly, Morcelu is a creation of Serenity.  He doesn't belong to Tolkien.  Please don't use him without permission.

If I've forgotten anything or you have any questions, please feel free to contact Serenity.  She'd love to hear from you.

Farewell,

Lord Elrond Half-Elven

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