My Wildest Dream (A Middle Earth Fan-fiction)

Proposals

Thranduil 

There. That should suffice to get Galion off my back. I've apologized. And he can shut up!

Erulasse. I have a name to go with her face, now, but it means nothing. She must be Silvan; no respectable Sindar lady would join the Guard, and, besides, I know most of them. My father doesn't encourage familiarity with the Silvans. In Oropher's mind they are the low-born peasants, not fit to kiss our boots, apparently. As far as my education has stretched, they are equals that merely came from another region of Middle-earth, but I would not dare risk my father's wrath and say so.

Speak of Morgoth, and he shall appear. I pause suddenly at a heavy ringed hand on my shoulder. "Thranduil." my father says flatly. "Come with me."

It's pathetic that my heart rate increases. I shouldn't have to fear him. I think back hastily as we walk, masks of friendliness firmly in place. I haven't done anything, as far as I'm aware, that could be construed as out of line. Yet Oropher only summons me when I've really done it. Some minor offense merely involves getting ambushed in my bedroom, or worse yet, while bathing. Nothing quite like getting hit with nothing on but a bath towel.

Oropher tightly shuts the door to his study, and points me into a chair. "Sit.

I do, very rigidly and formally as he has drilled into me.

"My son, you were foolish in challenging that beast, but it has had one good outcome." What, that I had to relearn to walk and eat and fight?

"If I had done nothing then Meludir would be dead!" I snap, unable to bite my tongue.

Oropher slaps his hand down on the desk. "Be silent!"

There was a time when I would have sunk back into my seat, but when I got old enough to realize how dangerous my father actually was to me, I stopped caring. What are a few stinging slaps, anyway? I ignore his tone and recline lazily.

"You were saying, Ada?"

Oropher composes himself with some difficulty and it takes all of my self-control not to yank the wine glass away from him before he drinks anymore. Valar help us all then.

"It has come to my attention, ion nin, that you very nearly walked to Mandos."

And this is news to you?

"You would have left me without an heir."

No no no do not even start this please not now shut up, shut up!

"Therefore, before you next decide to throw away both your sane judgement and life with both hands, you must have a son of your own."

"Or a daughter." I say quietly. There's really no reason my father has to be this sexist. Really.

"A son to rule." Oropher corrects my correction icily. "First, though, ion nin, you must have a wife."

I made up my mind then and there to go to Lake-town or possibly Erebor and learn some Dwarvish curses to yell at my father.

"Now, there are very few Sindar noblewomen that are good enough to contribute to this bloodline."

Valar above, you sound like you're breeding horses!

"Are you acquainted with the lady Aerlinniel?"

"The one who sometimes looks like she got tangled up in the drapes with those veils she wears?" I end up blurting out like an elfling.

Oropher glares. "She is both well-dressed and well mannered. Then, there is also Aerlinniel's sister, Caladwen."

I cringe. Caladwen is perhaps only a few hundred years old, barely of age to be married, and she speaks and behaves like a twenty year old elfling.