Chapter Text
Thranduil turned around at the foot of Ered Wethrin, Mountains of Shadow. He didn’t return to Nargothrond. He kept the king’s horse and decided that if the king wanted Fána back, he could come and get him in Doriath.
It took him three days to return to Doriath. After his return, he learned that the king’s daughter, Lúthien was also on her way to Angband and would meet King Finrod and his companions there.
Thranduil resumed his position in the army of King Thingol as an archer and Marchwarden.
Two weeks later Lúthien and Beren returned to Menegroth with a Silmaril they stole from Morgoth.
When Beren walked past Thranduil, the blonde pulled him aside. “Is King Finrod back in his realm?”
The Adan’s face dulled as he cast his eyes to the ground. “Thranduil… your beloved gave his life to save mine.”
Thranduil’s eyes shot full of tears as he stared at Beren. “What?”
Beren took the elf by the arm and pulled him away from the crowd. “Sauron, Morgoth’s lieutenant, captured us near Taur-nu-Fuin. He imprisoned all of us in his fortress, Isle of Werewolves.” The Adan shut his eyes for a moment before he continued. “Sauron sent his werewolves to devour us until it was only me and Finrod that were left.
“I knew the disguises wouldn’t be enough,” Thranduil whined while tears were streaming down his face.
“Oh, but if only one of us spoke Orkish then it would’ve been a brilliant plan, Thranduil. But none of us did and Sauron saw through our disguises. He stripped us of it before he imprisoned us.” Beren stared at the elf. “I could tell you more if you’d like.”
“No.” Thranduil covered his face with his hands while shaking his head.
“My sincere apologies for your loss, Thranduil,” Beren placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder before he walked away.
After what felt like hours, Thranduil regained his posture before he strolled over to the stables. He cried again when he laid eyes on his blonde king’s horse. “Fána…” he whined when he reached out his hand. The blonde snivelled as he struggled to get a word out. “I suppose we belong to each other now.”
The horse whickered when he pulled his head up a few times before he nudged Thranduil against the shoulder.
The blonde saddled the white stallion and led him out of the stable. After he mounted Fána, the blonde wiped his tears with the back of his hand before he nudged the steed’s flanks to get him trotting.
After they left the surrounding buildings, Thranduil urged Fána into a canter. They dodged the trees in the forest and soon the open fields lay before them. Once again, the blonde prodded the horse’s flanks as he yelled, “Noro lim, Fána.”
The white stallion understood as he increased his speed into a gallop setting his own course through the tall grass. His white manes wavered in the wind just like his master’s ash-blonde hair did.
Thranduil clung onto the pommel while shutting his eyes as his body copied the up-and-down movement of his horse.
His ash-blonde hair danced in the wind at the back of his head. Only when he turned his head slightly, did a few strands of hair flutter over his face.
Tears ran freely down his cheeks when he recalled Beren’s words.
Fána slowed down when he noticed a river in front of them.
Thranduil opened his eyes to see why the horse was slowing his gait. “Are you thirsty, mellon nín?” The horse neighed when the blonde leaned over to rub his head. “We can stop for a while.”
He dismounted his horse before he led him to the riverbank.
The blonde watched the stallion drink before he crouched down to scoop a few handfuls of water for himself realizing he never brought a bladder of water along.
Thranduil led his horse to a nearby beech tree and fastened him so he could eat while in the shade. The blonde looked for a soft spot with lots of grass and lay down to take a nap.
The blonde only woke when the sun was low on the horizon. “Why didn’t you wake me, Fána?” the blonde asked when he rose. He stretched out before he loosened the horse’s reign. He walked beside Fána for a while before he mounted him again to return to Menegroth.
It was already dark when Thranduil got the horse back into the stables. After tending to the stallion, the blonde patted the horse's rear and wished him good night.
Thranduil sighed before he entered his house.
He flinched when his father scolded him.
Oropher charged forward shouting, “Where were you, Thranduil? I was worried sick.” He grabbed his son by the shoulders. “Where were you?” he asked as he lowered his voice.
“I took Fána for a ride, Ada.”
Oropher furrowed his brows. “Fána?”
Thranduil gave him a small smile. “Yes, Finrod’s horse.”
“About that,” Oropher said when he turned back to sit down at the kitchen table. With a stern face, he looked at his son. “Sit down, hên nín. I must tell you something.”
The younger blonde furrowed his brows before he sat down too. “What is it, Ada?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” He stared at his son. “King Finrod is…”
“He’s dead. I know, Ada.”
Oropher’s eyes enlarged when he placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “How did you know?”
Thranduil’s lower lip shivered. “Beren told me this morning.” He sniffled when he cast his eyes to the floor.
“Oh.” Oropher took his hand off his son’s shoulder when he stood up. He poured a goblet of wine and placed it on the table before his son. “Drink up and get some rest.”
The younger blonde glanced at the goblet. He turned his head to watch his father leave the kitchen. He glanced back at the goblet before he reached out to it and raised it. “To Finrod,” he muttered before swigging it down. He shut his eyes for a moment before he rose to his feet. “We will meet again in Aman, meleth nín,” Thranduil whispered before he strolled to his bedchambers.
~~~The End~~~