Erestor dropped his eyes to the ground. He wished fervently that he could run away or undo the past several minutes. He had just assaulted the Crowned Prince of Mirkwood! Had he not been rooted to the spot, fixated by the young Elf's beauty, he would have stammered an apology and left swiftly. He tried to speak, tried to apologise, but found his mouth as dry as a desert. So he stood there, waiting for the inevitable reprimand. But it did not come, instead, the blonde Sindar held out his hand.

"Will you walk with me, my Noldo guest?"

Erestor merely nodded, still too dry mouthed to speak. He trailed a few steps behind, uncertain what to make of the Prince. The young blonde stopped and turned, waiting patiently for Erestor to draw level with him before continuing. However, he soon paused again, this time outside large double doors.

The Prince pushed them open, ushering Erestor inside, "One of my maids reported that you would not eat or bathe, that you had no regard for your own state. She did not seem impressed by your decision."

Erestor blushed as he glanced at his person; he hadn't noticed just *how* unappealing he looked. He was covered in dust and, although he could not see himself reflected anywhere; he knew that he bore more than a few cuts and bruises, many of which would be sorely visible to others.

The Prince continued, "To appease her, I promised to come and check on you myself; and I must say, I do have to agree with her."

Erestor's deep blush intensified.

"You are an attractive young Elf, under all that dirt and blood. And if you are anything like myself, I am sure you would wish to look your best, which is why I brought you here." The flaxen-haired Prince gestured around the grand bathhouse, "I, myself, cannot stand the feeling of that comes from not bathing."

Erestor was not sure what to think of the Prince. The words he spoke sounded arrogant, but his tone belied nothing but genuine friendliness. Erestor began to fidget; he was in one of the most majestic rooms he had ever seen, with the Prince who it belonged to. He was so caught up in his own thoughts, that he failed to realise that the Prince had moved, and it was not until he jumped at the touch of a hand on his shoulder, that he realised it.

"Why are you so nervous? I am not like my father; I will not treat you as he did. You did not deserve the harsh treatment that you received from him. I will treat you very differently. That is, if you will let me..." The Elf's lilting voice trailed off, and he turned Erestor's face towards his own. Erestor could feel his warm breath on his cheek, and could see the Prince's moist, rosy lips quivering in anticipation. Embarrassed and uncertain, he slipped from the hands gripping his shoulders.

"I am sorry, but I know you as nothing more than the Prince of Mirkwood. You have been kind, but I can ask no more of you." He stammered, "I should really sleep. I will need it for the return journey." Erestor attempted to leave, but found the doorway blocked. "Please, Prince..." Erestor paused, suddenly aware that he did not know the Prince's name.

The blonde smiled at him, "My name is Thranduil, and please do not call me Prince. I do not feel the need for a title. It is my father who insists upon the formalities; I do not care for them. I am sorry if I over-stepped boundaries before; I know that not all Elves are as inclined as me to find members of their own sex attractive. If you like, I shall leave you to bathe alone. I will send a maid to tend to your cuts if you prefer." Thranduil turned to leave, "By the way, friend. What should I tell them your name is?"

"My name is Erestor, Prin... Thranduil. But you need not tell them anything. I am not bothered by you remaining here whilst I bathe." Erestor blushed and wondered why the words had escaped his mouth; he was not one to normally let others know his personal feelings. Why he had done so to a blonde Prince he had not met before tonight was beyond him. Slowly, he removed his outer robe, suddenly seeing why Thranduil's maid had been so disapproving of his decision not to bathe with the others. His robe was no longer whole, it was covered in dirt and blood and the back of it was shredded. If it had not been his only one, he would not have bothered to be so careful with it as he undressed.

"I can get you another one." Thranduil noted how cautious his guest was with his ripped clothing, "It would be unkind to send a guest anywhere in such an ill-attired state."

"It is not necessary." Erestor turned away so that the Prince would not see the shame in his eyes.

"Yes, it is! I insist. I anticipate nothing in return, I just wish you to look the part."

"What part? I came here in desperation. I have no part, Thranduil."

"You are a leader, Erestor. An Elf who has no part would not have led as many as you did to my father's kingdom. You may not believe it now, but you have many skills in leadership. In time, you will realise this for yourself." Thranduil turned towards the door again, "I will fetch you new clothes whilst you bathe." With those words, he was gone, the door closing behind him.

Erestor sighed, he had little energy left to argue. He stripped the rest of his clothes quickly, wincing as he removed his tunic. He glanced at his shoulder; there was a large bruise forming over the blade, spreading across his back. Erestor sighed; he hadn't even noticed a blow strong enough to dislocate it, but, as he examined his body critically, he hadn't noticed a lot of the injury causing blows he had sustained. He slipped into the water, wincing as it seeped into the open cuts.

"You are hurt." Thranduil's voice sounded from behind him, "I am sorry, I did not mean to scare you, Erestor. I wish only to help you." Thranduil carefully placed the new clothes safely out of the way, before removing his own and taking several small bottles from a cupboard.

Erestor looked warily at him, "May I ask what you are doing, Thranduil?"

Thranduil walked to the edge of the bath, "I am helping you, Erestor. That shoulder of yours will serve only to hinder you. You will find difficulty in basic tasks; Valar knows how you managed to fight and ride with that injury. I am a healer; I can lessen your pain as your body repairs the damage."

Erestor said nothing, merely luxuriating in the relaxing heat of the water. He bit back a whimper of pain as he felt lithe fingers probing at the bruise.

"I am sorry, friend, but this is the only way to heal your injury. It will cause you some pain, I am afraid." He paused thoughtfully for a moment, "If only it were true that kisses were filled with magic, then I could kiss your wounds better."

"If your kisses hold half the magic of your eyes, then you could revive the dead." The words slipped from Erestor's tongue before he realised it. Mortified, he tried to rise, to escape from this embarrassing moment, but a hand stayed him.

"Please do not leave, Erestor. There is no shame in your words. In fact," Thranduil paused, blushing slightly, "They are some of the sweetest words I have ever heard."

Erestor turned slightly, "I am surprised, Thranduil. You deserve many kinder than that. You are quite wonderful in many ways. It is heartening to know that one day, you will be the one who rules this realm." He regretted his words immediately. He knew that the Prince was aware of his father's shortcomings, but it was still inexcusable to insult the King. Erestor held his breath, waiting for Thranduil's response.

"Thank you for the sentiment, Erestor. But my father has no plans to leave his kingdom. It would take an army to remove him from his throne."

Erestor laughed, "I would hope it would not be as troublesome as that!"

To Erestor's surprise, Thranduil actually laughed, "I hold the same hope, but as each year passes, I begin to wonder more and more."

Silence fell over the bathhouse as Thranduil continued his healing ministrations on Erestor's injured shoulder. Erestor bit his tongue, trying not to cry out at the pain that shot through his arm and back; he tasted the coppery tang of blood on his tongue.

"I am sorry, I am sorry." Thranduil's voice whispered in his ear and Erestor shivered as his warm breath brushed over the sensitive tip. He felt strong arms wrap around him, "Are you cold?" Thranduil's voice murmured.

"No... I am," Erestor paused, feeling uncertain of how to word how he was feeling.

"What is wrong? Are you alright, Erestor?" Thranduil sounded concerned, but every word simply made Erestor weak with arousal and the only response he could manage was a small shudder.

Thranduil's oiled fingers gripped Erestor's face, turning it towards his own. "Erestor..." his voice trailed off, the Noldo's unfocused eyes giving him the answer to his concerns. The Prince smiled knowingly, the hand not resting on the injured shoulder sliding lower, caressing and exploring the younger Elf's chest, feeling it heaving under his palm. Thranduil never let his eyes falter, always studying the changes in Erestor's chocolate ones. As soon as they fell shut, Thranduil dropped his mouth to the Noldo's; pressing a chaste kiss against the red lips before teasing them open with light touches from his tongue. Once Thranduil had his opening, he did not fail to act on it. He slid his tongue in slowly, caressing Erestor's with gentle, lazy touches. He ran it thoughtfully around the inside of the tempting upper lip, taking in the unique geography of the wet heat of the mouth he had been allowed to invade. He sought out every difference in texture, every variation in temperature, feeling every touch of flesh on flesh adding to his own heated state of arousal. He deepened the kiss, exploring further, pressing as deep as he could, gliding his tongue across the smoothness of Erestor's palate, drawing it across the ridges in the roof of his mouth, savouring every sensation, exploring each erogenous point as he encountered it. He devoured every new taste he was offered, his tongue twisting itself into every crevice it found. Reluctantly, Thranduil broke the kiss. He had traversed every element of Erestor's mouth many times over; now he wanted to see the look in his eyes. He gazed at the slowly opening eyes; they were thick with a fog of lust, both simultaneously sated and needy, practically black with want.

"You are ebony and ivory, Erestor. Ink and parchment combined to perfection. I would scribe words of beauty, perfection and love in every tongue all over the marble surface your chest if only they were enough to describe how you look right now." Thranduil dipped his head, nuzzling amongst the dark hair that fell damply down his back, the tip of his nose, rubbing against the long neck.

Erestor arched back into the unusual touch, oblivious to any pain in his shoulder. He thought only of the blonde Prince seated behind him. He attempted to twist around, to gain more contact but was restrained by two strong hands gliding over his chest.

"Relax. Allow me..."

Erestor did as he was instructed, relaxing into the sensual touch, shivering as he felt soft fingers roaming over his tired skin. He leaned back, sighing as he rested against the broad chest behind him. Twisting his head, he pressed a light, teasing kiss to the sculpted collarbone. He did not raise his lips, instead leaving them lingering on the warm skin, breathing in the Prince's fresh, heady scent. He gasped, the sound rasping loudly in the empty, cavernous bathhouse, as the blonde's fingers glided down the crease in the soft skin between his thigh and groin. Erestor felt his blood warming, the steam of the room clinging to his skin. He could not contain his wanton moan as he felt a long finger moving slowly along the underside of his burgeoning arousal. His breath caught in his throat and he dropped his head back onto the strong shoulder behind him. It took several minutes for Erestor to realise that Thranduil had stopped his actions.

"Thranduil... Why do you stop?"

"My father."

Erestor twisted around, saying nothing, but raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"We must not do this here, he will know." The now, obviously anxious Sindar Prince extricated himself from behind Erestor, hurriedly drying and dressing. A panicked expression twisted his elegant features when he saw Erestor still in the water. "Please! We cannot stay as we are. My father has strange habits, Erestor. He likes to walk through his palace at night; he trusts no one to be honest. There is good chance he could find us. Please..." Thranduil looked pleadingly at the wet, naked Noldo.

Erestor stepped from the bath and was immediately accosted, lovingly towelled dry and his injured arm strapped and then helped to dress. Together, they hurried out of the bathhouse, Thranduil guiding him by his good arm towards his own rooms; Erestor was scared, he did not know why Thranduil was so worried. He understood that his father was unpleasant and somewhat ruthless, but from what Thranduil had told him, he had thought that he was not that heartless to his son. Then he felt his arm dropped and heard a small ragged sigh that was not his own. He glanced about, and his heart jumped at the sight of Thranduil's blanched face and then saw the King striding towards them. Erestor marvelled at how well Thranduil hid his emotions; the blonde Prince waited for his father, all previously expressed fear and apprehension hidden behind a smooth, dignified, unemotional mask. Oropher stopped before he reached his son and guest, raising an expectant eyebrow at Thranduil, who obediently walked down the hallway towards him.

"It is not early enough for you to have not gone to bed, nor is it late enough for you to have risen early, Thranduil. Why do you skulk through these corridors at night? And *why* is that Noldo," Oropher almost spat the word out, "with you?"

Thranduil fought the defensive feelings welling inside him, "He is injured father and the maid sent to attend to him and his party told me that he refused to eat and bathe with the others. I merely wished to ensure his health."

"We have others who deal with such tasks, my son. There is no reason for you to trouble yourself with them. Why is he still here?"

Thranduil debated the most appropriate response. Many in the palace knew of his preference for males, but his father was not one of them; ill-chosen words and Thranduil risked painful repercussions. He could see his father awaiting a response, if he paused much longer, he would raise his suspicions. "Our attendants had no luck convincing him, I thought I may have better luck." He stared at his father, emotionless and unmoving, "They were attacked, Father. Many of their party were injured, they need to rest."

Oropher's gaze narrowed, and Thranduil steeled himself for his father's response.

"I want them gone in the morning. They have no need to be here. They are Elves, not men, their health will withstand much more."

"But, Father!"

Thranduil was used to the harsh words that his father dealt out with a heavy hand, and he was used to seeing him punish those below him with brutal force, but he had never before been the one to be punished. He never anticipated the stinging slap that landed on his left cheek.

"I do not tolerate insolence, even from my own son, Thranduil. I have enough trouble with my servants, I do not need it with my offspring as well." He pushed Thranduil roughly out of his path before storming away.

Erestor approached the subdued Thranduil. "Thranduil... I am -" Before he could finish, Thranduil turned, wordlessly, grasped Erestor's arm and led him away. Erestor allowed himself to be walked down the long hallway, his mind spinning, reeling from the brutality of the King.

Nothing more was spoken that night, they simply walked to Thranduil's rooms in silence. Thranduil drew Erestor inside and closed the door behind him, leading him to the bed and easing the robes from the injured shoulder and holding the covers open for him. Thranduil soon joined him, and pulled him in close, careful of his shoulder. Despite the dull ache, he fell asleep quickly, but was woken by movement in the bed; Thranduil was moving, twisting in the thin sheets, a soft mewl escaping his lips. Erestor slid his free hand down the warm back and he felt Thranduil stiffen underneath him.

"Please tell me..."

"He hates me... He wishes I were never born. He is a perfectionist, for him, everything can always be better. Except for me, for me, everything is always worse than all that came before it. I... I can never be anything worthwhile in his eyes. I can tell him nothing of my mind or my heart, for I fear I will become more despised. I can do nothing until he leaves, but I begin to think that he will not. It sometimes crosses my mind that he would rather see his kingdom die than have it in my hands."

"I am sure that is not true. He is your father, he must feel some love for you."

Thranduil turned to face Erestor, "Love? You say he must feel some love for me. My father no longer knows the meaning of the word. How can you say that from what you have seen of him in the short time you have been here? If that is what you truly believe, then you have little more intelligence than an orc." The look that entered Thranduil's green eyes so fleetingly scared Erestor, for in that moment, he saw the same passion that fuelled Oropher, drove him to commit his hateful acts and speak his spiteful words, the same passion that gave him a reputation founded upon fear.

Erestor had no chance to reply before Thranduil was apologising, "I am sorry, my friend. You are one of the few who I can be honest with. I cannot afford to lose someone like you from my life. I do not know what made me say such things." Erestor said nothing, only smiled in acceptance of the apology and allowed the trembling Prince to rest against his chest, he knew what had made Thranduil speak with such ferocity.

* * *

The weeks that followed were awkward; Oropher was not subtle in making known his feelings about Erestor and his party remaining in Mirkwood. For them, it had been easy to avoid the cantankerous king, for Thranduil, it had been impossible. Every day he was forced to suffer the direct and indirect threats and insults and every night, he had returned, shaken and scared. It was only Erestor who noticed the hardness creeping into the Prince's heart; it was a slow process but a steady one. Each time he returned from spending time with his father, the restrained emotion would flood from him, but each night it lessened slightly; each night Thranduil's eyes grew colder and his heart more distant. Whereas once Erestor would have held him, stilling the trembling frame, stroking the long hair, calming the nerves, the fears and the anger with soft words, now he held a stoic, rigid body, that is, if he was not brushed off before any contact could be made at all.

That night was the first night Thranduil shunned all contact; normally he would seek closeness with Erestor between the sheets, even if he brushed him away at other times. But that night, Thranduil had kept away from him as if he had been suffering a contagious disease.

"Why do you shun me?"

"You do not know what you say, I do nothing of the sort. I am not shunning you."

Erestor ran his hand along the muscled back, a familiar gesture, which normally melted any icy mood Thranduil suffered; tonight was different however, the gently curving spine stiffened under his caress, and pulled away from the warm hands.

"If you do not shun me, then why do you not welcome my touch?"

Thranduil rolled over and looked Erestor in the eye, "Do not welcome your touch? If that was true, then I would not do this..." Thranduil's lips pressed against his firmly Erestor's. Erestor could feel the passion pounding through Thranduil's blood as the kiss burned into him. He did not know whether to fear or enjoy the kiss; the passion was so intense that it almost overwhelmed him and he felt himself beginning to drown in the experience. Unsure, Erestor withdrew from the kiss and stared into Thranduil's eyes; he was frightened by the fire he saw burning deep within the emerald green iris', a long restrained passion that he had felt every time Thranduil had shaken with anger or pain at his father's actions. Erestor had not known how to deal with it then and he had less idea now. There was a new look, a predatory look, in Thranduil's eyes and it made Erestor nervous. He felt cowered, the same way he had felt when he had first entered the King's court many weeks ago.

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing I have not already taken, my sweet Noldo."

Erestor blushed a deep red, remembering all the times the two of them had furthered their soft touches and gentle hugs at night.

"Will you give it to me?" The soft tones of Thranduil's voice chilled Erestor to his very heart, but he forced himself to look the Sindar Prince and was frozen to the bed from the pure animalistic ferocity burning deep within them. He no longer felt like an Elf, he felt like a piece of meat.

Somehow, Erestor found his voice, "Would you still take it if I denied you?" He cringed as he heard the obvious fear in his words.

Something about his words quelled the fire in Thranduil's eyes, "Have I given you reason to think I would?" Thranduil pulled Erestor into his arms, concern now the dominant force driving his gaze. "Please tell me... Oh the Valar... What has made you think this?" For a moment, Erestor thought he could see fear deep in the emerald gaze.

"You scare me sometimes, Thranduil. You scare me more each time you return from your father's presence. I feel all the beauty I first saw in your heart fading and it is because of your father that it is happening. I am scared because I see you becoming cold and hard-hearted like he is and it saddens me because I know you could be so much more than him; it scares me also because I feel you drawing away from me, hiding yourself, changing against your will. I am scared that you will become him." Erestor knew his words would cut to Thranduil's core, but he felt no fear, he had thought that the bond they had forged as he healed was strong enough to withstand strong words.

Thranduil pulled himself from his position on the bed and once again, Erestor was unnerved by the expression in his eyes, but this time, it was the calmness that he found there. The fact that there was no emotion in them shook Erestor more than the anger he had witnessed only moments ago. He studied the lean back of Thranduil, biting his lip, wondering how the temperamental Prince would react. With every minute that passed, Erestor grew more wary and more nervous. Uncertain, he rose and crossed the few short steps to where Thranduil stood, "Thranduil..." Erestor whispered, reaching out to touch the Prince's shoulder.

"Leave." The voice was so quiet it was almost imperceptible.

"Thranduil..."

"Leave." Thranduil's voice grew stronger.

Erestor ignored the warning tone that had entered Thranduil's voice and stepped closer still, "What... Why..." He did not know the best question to ask, and in truth, he was still uncertain of the information he wanted, of the answers he wished to be told.

Thranduil spun to face Erestor unaware of how close he was standing; inadvertently sending him flying to the floor, Erestor's head cracking against the floor. Anger had driven him before, but hearing the sound of Erestor hitting the floor and glimpsing his head dropping heavily onto the ground, drained the anger from him momentarily. He dropped to his knees, desperate in his need to be reassured of Erestor's state. He reached out, tried to help Erestor up, tried to care for him, but his hands were pushed forcefully away.

"No!" Erestor pulled himself away from Thranduil, "Do not touch me. You have shown me your true self. I will leave. I was hopeful, but now I realise who you are." Erestor rose to his feet, and pulled on his robes. As he opened the door, he glanced back, a part of him pulling him back, wanting him to stay, that, combined with the pain in Thranduil's green eyes almost succeeded, but Erestor forced himself not to succumb. He did not want to be the tortured lover, living in a memory of happier times passed, so he left. He pulled the door closed behind him, and returned to his own people.

* * *

It was not long after that, that Erestor and his party finalised arrangements to leave. Within two days, they were ready. Erestor had hoped to avoid Thranduil in that time, but it was difficult to avoid the Prince of the Kingdom.

Erestor had almost forgotten of Oropher's habit of wandering the palace hallways late at night. He had spent so much of his time in Mirkwood secure in Thranduil's room, that the memory of their run-in with the King late upon the first night had slipped to the back of his mind. However, it all came flooding back when, once again, he encountered the King, wandering the corridors. Erestor had hopes that they could pass one another with neither comment nor incident, but he was disappointed.

"Why do you skulk through my corridors this late, Noldo?"

"I had some forgotten items to collect. One of your maids was nice enough to gather them together for me."

Oropher raised a stern, questioning eyebrow, "I shall have to make sure that they know not to continue that practice."

Erestor nodded in agreement, silently fuming, before moving on. As he walked, he said quietly to himself, "Says the one whose own practices are archaic."

"Your words are loud to the ears of an aged Elf, Noldo." Erestor cringed, the King had heard, "Face me, impertinent one. Look at me and speak those words again."

Erestor felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. It was easy to speak words to the air, expecting no response but it was different when they fell on sharp ears. Especially when those ears belonged to a disagreeable, ill-tempered king.

"I said nothing, King Oropher."

Oropher's eyes narrowed, "Do you purposely lie to me, or are simply too ignorant to understand what I ask you?"

"I do neither."

"Neither? Why do you not admit to me what you said, Noldo?" Oropher drew even with Erestor, his eyes boring menacingly into Erestor's.

"Father!" Thranduil's voice sounded from behind and Erestor released a small, grateful sigh as quietly as possible as Oropher released him from his gripping glare. Erestor retreated, seeking safety against the wall as he watched the stand off between father and son.

Oropher merely raised a fine, blonde eyebrow at his son. "Why do you pace these paths at this hour?"

"You once invited me to join you. You said it would be an invaluable lesson for me, should I ever take over your rule here in Mirkwood. I thought you did not mind which night I joined you."

Erestor was deeply unnerved by the catty smile Oropher gave his son. "You are welcome by my side at any time. After all, you are my son and the Prince of this kingdom. How can I refuse you when you ask to be taught?"

Thranduil smiled graciously in return, "Thank you, Father. Your lessons are always appreciated."

"You are smart, son. You will do well should you ever take my place." Oropher took Thranduil by the arm and guided him to stand before Erestor. "Now... Demonstrate your brilliance. Deal with him." Oropher gestured at Erestor before walking part way down the long hallway, to a place observance.

"You have truly become the Prince of this kingdom." Erestor spoke first. "You are taking your rightful place, by your father's side."

Thranduil looked at him, pain hiding deep within his eyes, "I came to wish you luck on your journey from here. I do not wish you to get hurt."

Erestor laughed coldly, "You do not wish me to get hurt, yet only days ago, you were willing to see me lie aching, on the floor. I know you do not care for me, Prince Thranduil, there is no need for you to pretend otherwise."

"If that is what you believe, you do not know me as well as you think. I still care for you, as I always have done. I truly do not wish to see you hurt."

Erestor stared at the Prince that stood before him. Outwardly, he seemed the same as the mischievous young Elf that had not cared for the crown or his kingdom. However, it was in his eyes that you could see his age. It had taken little time for the pressures of his world to break the youthful spirit that burned within him. Now he was old in his ways, old in his mind, but still forever young in his body.

"You said to me that first night that I was ebony and ivory. Now I say it to you. Outwardly, you are ivory, smooth and polished, presenting a perfect, refined exterior. Inwardly, however, you are ebony, your heart and soul as black as the sky that sits about Arda this very night. The ink of your father's poisonous pen had permanently marred your fair parchment, forever imbuing it with its cruel-hearted maliciousness." Erestor looked in Thranduil's eyes, not seeing the emotion that lay beneath the surface, "Nothing you say to me will ever be true, because I have seen your heart, your true nature. And that you cannot change."

Thranduil fought back the tears that Erestor's words created. Every new phrase was another blow to his spirit and with each breath, he felt the deadness inside him grow more. "You know not..."

"I care not." Erestor cut him off

"You did not let me finish." Thranduil's voice went from whisper quiet to terse.

Erestor looked at him, "You are nothing to me anymore, Thranduil."

The slap that stung Erestor's cheek came was so forceful it almost knocked him to the floor. "You will not speak to me like that. You are a guest in my kingdom, Noldo, you will not talk to me like that."

Erestor looked at Thranduil, "You will rule this kingdom as your father has. It is not me who needs luck on my journey. It is you who needs luck; your journey to your father's crown will not be easy. You truly are your father's son, Thranduil."

* * *

Thranduil did not see Erestor between that night and the day he left. His father had not cared, had not seen the pain his son was in. He had dragged his grieving child deep into his world, taught him, indoctrinated him further into the ways of ruling the kingdom. Thranduil had little choice but to go, he knew he would one day rule his father's kingdom, he just wished he had someone by his side that could save him from falling into the same dark ways that his father used.

* * *

Erestor felt a small part of his heart die the day that he rode out of Mirkwood with his party, but he would not look back. He refused to see what he had feared so much every time he lay in Thranduil's arms; the Prince and the King; Father and Son, side by side, ruling over the kingdom with the same affectations. Erestor wondered if Oropher had ever been as kind-hearted as his son once was, and if he too, had been destroyed by the cruel hand of his own flesh and blood. He hoped that any children Thranduil bore would not suffer such cruelty, but he doubted it. As Erestor rode, he hoped he never had to face such pain ever again. "Goodbye, innocent Prince. May you find your way from the darkness that breeds in your heart." He whispered to the trees as he left the dark woods.

TBC...