Middle Earth || OS

64. Thranduil | Fly Away Home III

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To say the Dwarves were surprised to see you, a member of their company, embracing their Elven captor was a gross understatement.

But nothing they said - "improper", "suspicious" and whatnot - and none of their angry or bewildered stares could pull you away from Thranduil until you were good and ready.

You had waited ten long years for this moment. He had waited 6,000. You both were going to thoroughly savor the hugging, pulling back, wiping tears, smiling, laughing, then repeating the cycle with another embrace.

Finally, you stepped back, wiped your last tear, and bowed as you made your way backwards into the group.

"Please show mercy to my friends, your grace," you asked Thranduil, taking your place beside Ori, the only friendly-looking one in the lot. You turned around and smiled wide at all the other scowling faces.

"Friends, not to worry," you announced. "There is nothing improper going on. I'm just happy to see Thranduil, whom I cared for when he was a boy."

Each bearded face look at the other. There was the quickest moment of absolute quiet. Then, starting with Dwalin, deep, belly-shaking guffaws began to fill the cavernous Elven halls.

"You expect us to believe that a human woman younger than we are was the wet nurse to this old, haughty Elf?" Thorin thundered. He was perhaps the only one just smirking, not laughing, his eyes drilling into you accusingly.

"I was not his wet nurse!" you snapped.

"HAHAHAHA! That explains why he called you his MELON!" Dwalin cackled, referring to the term of endearment Thranduil crowned you with as a boy in your care, the name he called you joyously just a moment before: Mellon-Nana. Friend-Mother.

You frowned, momentarily forgetting that Oin was the only one who fully understood the time differential between your world and theirs. The rest knew and accepted that you were a visitor from another realm, but they couldn't buy that you were once the Elven king's babysitter.

Before you could explain exactly what you meant, Thranduil spoke up.

"SILENCE!"

The chuckles and snorts gradually died down, especially when the guards roughly grabbed some of the louder ones - namely, Thorin, Dwalin, Kili and Fili.

"I will show your so-called friends mercy in their confinement - after I speak with the heir to Erebor's throne," he said, nodding toward his attentive guards, who began to round up everyone but Thorin.

Thranduil looked back at you.

"And I will show you proper accommodations, clothes and a lovely meal, mellon-nana," he said, a smile lifting the corners of his lips, which you heartily reflected.

From that point on, the time you spent catching up with Thranduil was as wonderful as you dreamed it would be. Over meals that took place on a sprawling outdoor terrace overlooking his gardens, you shared the happenings in each other's lives since the day he was magically taken away in a whirlwind of leaves right in the middle of the dank woods near your home, a secret world-jumping portal.

Of course, you already knew some of the bigger events of his life from reading Tolkien's books, including his involvement in the War of the Last Alliance, where his father King Oropher was slain. But you were so happy to converse with him that you didn't mind the retelling.

There were also details he shared that weren't in the books, such as his wedding, his son's very early life, the death of his wife.

That first night during dinner, you met Legolas, and although he couldn't exactly understand your relationship with his father or why he was treating you so well, he welcomed you hospitably. You sensed a strain between Thranduil and Legolas, but weren't sure how to broach it.