The Golden Ones

II - A Tale from Six Centuries Prior Pt. 2

 Before any protest was made, Thranduil dismissed his advisor. He requested that she begin to ready the girl for the move. When the elf was gone, he allowed himself to sink to the floor. He focused on the cold stone which he was lying upon. Mostly, he tried very hard not to think about Gilrin. Rather surprisingly, it was very easy to let the lethargy consume him. Thranduil thought about the air that blew over his curled form. It was become slightly more chilled each day. Autumn was approaching, and very early at that. Grapes that his elves grew would soon be harvested, new barrels of wine rolled into the cellar to age. Speaking of wine...

    Thranduil called out for an advisor. Within moments, three came rushing out. "My lord, are you well?" One asked. 

    "I would better if I was brought a bottle of some wine. The most potent wine that can be found in the cellars. Someone, fetch it." He demanded. All three of the advisors dashed off. Yes, it was grand idea he had. His lips pulled into a half smile. 

    Only once before had he drunk himself into near oblivion. When Thranduil was a young elf, Oropher, his father, had allowed him samplings of wine. He insisted that it was important to build up tolerance to the stuff, that resistance had to be developed over time. Thranduil listened, never having more than one serving when it was allowed. Then, one day, Thranduil found a bottle of gorgeous wine on a tabletop on a balcony overlooking the forest . A beautiful white, by the looks of it. His eyes surveyed the area. No one was around. He raised the bottle to his lips. It was a burning like no other, one that spread from the tip of his tongue down his throat. This was potent wine. Thranduil drank again, and again, and again. He only stopped because in dismay, he realized that the bottle had a bottom, and he had reach it. He attempted to stand, but the warmness within him would not allow for it. It insisted that he instead stay seated. However, he refused to allow a mere bottle of wine to best him. He pulled himself to stand, then tread very carefully towards the nearest entrance. Everything was spinning. Was the ground the ground? Was that step really right there? Thranduil managed to trek to the door, but ultimately met his end when he tripped and hit his head on the door itself. When he awoke, it was a day later and he vowed to his father that he would never drink that much again.

    Two of the advisors returned, interrupting his memory. One bore a pitcher of wine, and another a goblet. A simple cup and the barrel would've done, but he would not argue. The goblet was pushed into his hand, nearly overflowing with its contents. Thranduil downed it in one drink. He thrust the goblet back at the advisors. "Another!" he demanded. Goblet two of wine was also downed in one drink. His pace slowed down around the fourth or fifth serving of the stuff. He barely noticed the familiar heat that flowed through his veins. His mind was almost becoming foggy, perhaps after another goblet full or two...

    Thranduil wasn't sure how much wine he had consumed when he awoke. He sat up, finding himself on an improvised bed instead of the hard floor he'd been sprawled across. He shook his head, trying to clear the heavy weight that was upon his mind. Another pair of eyes caught his, the gray eyes of Galadir, one of his main advisors. Galadir was young, just married, and already at a high position in his court. Thranduil respected Galadir, and valued his opinions. 

    "Something pitiful I've become, Galadir." Thranduil murmured. "The Elvenking, reduced to a crumpled being, turning to wine for help because he cannot lead himself. How can this man be trusted to lead a kingdom?" He asked.

    "My Lord, this is a very difficult time for you. You've had a traumatic injury, recovered, and suffered a tremendous loss." Galadir said softly, nearing his king. 

    "Recovered?" Thranduil chuckled softly. "Far from it. I cannot face any other being, let alone this whole kingdom until I've gotten this hideous piece of ruin-" he began to cry, his voice raising in volume until it was almost a shout, until he was cut off by Galadir.