~Thranduil must make an impossible choice that will have dire and lifelong consequences.~

oOo

Oath

Thranduil had anticipated a welcome like this; he had been prepared it would take a great deal of grovelling before he was back in his father's good graces, yet it stung. A lot.

He bowed. "My lord, I am afraid we have come in dire need of your aid. The sons of Fëanor attacked Haven and burned it to the ground."

"Fëanor's sons? That was unexpected. Had you angered them, somehow? They have shown us the uttermost friendliness and respect since we came here. Maedhros had a bad conscience over what they did in Doriath and much of this was gifts from him." He indicated the room and his crown with a sweeping motion of his hand. Thranduil noticed he wore several costly rings.

"They came for the Silmaril."

"You had a Silmaril? That explains it."

"Don't pretend you didn't know," Aerneth piped in. "Thranduil said you..." Her voice trailed off, then she began again, speaking in a slow, disbelieving voice: "Only Thranduil and you knew we had it." She pointed at him with a trembling finger. "It was you! You told Maedhros where it was! In exchange for all this wealth, you offered them the Silmaril!"

Oropher rose so quickly the chair wobbled, pink spots blooming on his cheeks. "How dare you!" he growled. "You have the nerve to make such dreadful, groundless accusations to the king himself. How dare you!"

Aerneth flinched at his rage but did not budge.

Galadriel took her arm in a supportive gesture. "It actually makes sense," she said calmly.

"Aye, it must have been you," said Aerneth shakily.

"You... you vixen!" he sputtered, looming over her.

Thranduil had to stop this. He did not think his father was behind it; he would not have put his son in such danger. Oropher could be cruel, but not that cruel.

"Please, Aerneth, now is not the time." He gave her an entreating look.

In the corner of his eye he saw Celeborn similarly beg his wife to back down.

To his relief the ellith silenced after directing furious glares at their husbands.

He turned back to Oropher. "Forgive us. You must understand we are weary and distressed after losing our home. We did not mean to offend you."

Oropher had looked on the verge to strike Aerneth down, now he seemed to compose himself marginally and sat back on the throne.

"We need your help, my lord," Thranduil continued. "The people are starving."

"My help?" His tone was arrogant. "Well, it is not like we cannot afford to give alms to beggars, but do we want to? After you drove us out over such a ridiculous matter as how I chose to raise a child in my care!" He shook his head in disgust. "Nay. Go back to your colony. You are not welcome here."

Thranduil swallowed a hard lump in his throat. This was going exactly as disastrously as he had dreaded. "We cannot, my lord. Even if we wanted to rebuild Haven there are orcs everywhere along the coast now."

"Too bad. For you. You should have left that place and come with me when you had the chance."

"Are you driving us away?" asked Galadriel incredulously.

"Tit for tat, the way I see it."

"You... you monster!" Galadriel hissed, eyes flashing. "Fine! Sit in your fancy tree house and wait for the orcs and balrogs to ruin your farms and the sea to rise. Do you believe you will have any use of all your trinkets and finery when this tree stands at the bottom of the ocean?"

Oropher's eyes narrowed. "What is this unhinged elleth talking about, Thranduil?"

Before he could reply, Galadriel told him in a disdainful voice about the visions in her mirror and Círdan's firm belief Eärendil would succeed in rallying the Valar to come and defeat Morgoth once and for all. "We do not want to stay here anyway," she concluded. "We are heading to the mountains."

He laughed nastily. "And you presume to go there, how? The only way up is through my friend Maedhros' realm."

She shut her mouth, clenching her fists in frustration.

Thranduil's head spun; he had to say something soothing, try to placate his father, but did not know how.

Surely Oropher was not actually going to turn them out to starve? He must be bluffing.

"By ship," Aerneth exclaimed triumphantly. "My adar and High King Gil-galad will soon be here."

Oropher shifted his icy stare to Thranduil. "Is that true?"

He nodded.

"Hm." A thoughtful expression crossed his features. Then he gave a cruel smile. "If you think I will let his ship pass for nothing, you can think again. This is my land. My river. And we are heavily armed if anyone tries to trespass."

A shocked silence ensued.

"I am tired of you now. Guards! Escort these three out." He pointed at Thranduil. "You stay."

The guards came and steered them out against their protests, until only Thranduil and Oropher remained.

Thranduil steeled himself. It was probably now he would be obliged to abase himself, and let his father yell at him and scold him at length over what a disloyal and bad son he was, until he deemed Thranduil had shown enough remorse to be graciously pardoned.

Oropher observed him for a long time over steepled hands.

His piercing glare turned Thranduil's mouth dry. He hated that his father still had that power over him, with just one look from his cold, grey eyes. But he bore it without betraying any emotion.

At last Oropher sighed. "How do you even look? Half your hair is gone. How ridiculous."

Thranduil's hands flew to his head before he could stop them. He had forgotten that the fire had scalded him. The burns had healed now but his hair was still partly stubble.

"What do you want me to do in order for you to help us?" he asked, deciding to get to the point. "My lord," he added.

"Ascertain unity," he replied, a sly expression appearing in his face. "If that elleth indeed saw the continent become full of Morgoth's evil creatures before sinking, then we need to be one people. Your people are dependent on me to survive, and Gil-galad to pass through." He leaned forward. "Make them swear fealty to me. If they bend the knee and accept me as the true king of the Sindar and Laegrim, then we have a deal. Then I shall help you all I can and we can create a new realm beyond the mountains."

"I don't think I can..." Dismayed, Thranduil tried to explain: "It is true that we need to become united, but Galadriel is a Noldo and will never let a Sinda rule over her."

"You would allow the pride of one elleth to doom us all? Pathetic. I thought you had more influence than that by now. But you were always weak, I suppose."

Thranduil silently thought that most of all it was Oropher's pride and ambitions that stood in the way. His father had been humiliated when he was forced to step down as advisor to Elwing and it was evident he would not forget that in a hurry.

Amroth had said Oropher was quick to forget, but Thranduil suspected that had been a pretence – in all likelihood he still hated Fëanor's sons and the dwarves as passionately as before, and only used them to build his wealth. But when it came to Thranduil and the other refugees, Oropher had nothing to win to forgive and forget.

For the first time, Thranduil's certainty that his father would not turn them out to starve was beginning to waver. Looking at the cold, stern face before him now, he suddenly became afraid. Afraid for his people. For himself. Even if they managed to gather food somehow, there were orcs on the way, possibly already on their tracks, and if they went north Maedhros would be quick to finish what he began.

"How will it be?" urged Oropher. "I do not have all day."

"I beg you, my lord, do not let your anger with me be the death of a whole people." He braced himself, and slowly dropped to his knees on the hard talan floor, meeting his father's icy eyes. "I am sorry for everything I did. For not speaking up against those who turned you out. For staying, when I ought to have stood at your side and come with you. I am truly sorry. I will do anything in my power to make things right between us again."

What he said was partly true. In retrospect he was sorry that he had been a part of the division. But he could not regret remaining with Aerneth. The past years had been the best of their marriage. If he had chosen Oropher over her yet another time he would have lost her for good.

"Look at you," said Oropher scornfully. "Pathetic. Crawling at my feet like a worm. Rather than persuading your friends to accept me as king you would humiliate yourself like this! But you always let your feelings run away with you. Getting married at a whim, to the first elleth who batted her eyes at you. Taking the party of a spoiled brat like Elwing. Giving over to a stubborn elleth like Galadriel. It is thanks to you and your soft heart – and your tendency to give ellith power over you! – that our people became divided. Everyone who died in the attack did so because of you." His voice was dripping with venom. "You could have hindered it; if I had stayed I am certain I would have handled Maedhros equally well as I do now."

Thranduil began to shake, his throat growing painfully tight. He had thought similar things. His father was right, in a way; Thranduil could probably have done more.

"Please," he said unsteadily. "Don't do this. You don't want our blood upon your hands!"

"I do not?" He raised an eyebrow. "Try me. Now go, and don't return without a promise from your people they will swear loyalty."

oOo

With a heavy heart, Thranduil walked down the many stairs and rejoined the others waiting below. They had gathered around a table laden with food and drink, courtesy of Amdír. At least Amroth's father had remained sane and not turned cruel and power-hungry.

Thranduil curtly told them of his father's ultimatum.

Unsurprisingly, the ensuing discussion became heated.

"Are you mad? How can you suggest we do what he says?" asked Aerneth angrily. "He sold us to Fëanor's sons and you want us to bow to him?"

"We have no other choice."

"I doubt everyone in this place will do Oropher's bidding if it means a death sentence to their kin," said Galadriel. "We still have some friends here. If we wait until King Gil-galad and Círdan arrive, we will be strong enough to beat his soldiers and break through. And then we sail up Gelion until we are past Maedhros' realm."

"Nay." Aerneth vividly shook her head. "Not another kinslaying! We mustn't fight other elves ever again."

"Besides, there is no time to wait," Celeborn added. "The food is gone. We will starve to death before the ships get here."

"Anything is better than starving," Thranduil agreed, eyeing the food longingly. He did not want to eat until this was resolved.

More discussions followed, everyone growing increasingly frustrated. They were caught between a rock and a hard place.

At last Galadriel muttered: "I will do it. I will swear loyalty – temporarily. But as soon as we reach safety, that ends."

Reluctantly the rest of them agreed to do the same.

Hugely relieved, Thranduil returned to his father.

"That was fast," said Oropher.

"We are desperate and you know it."

"Hm." He bore his eyes into Thranduil. "I can see that there is more. A catch. Tell me!"

"There is no catch," he lied.

Oropher's hand moved so quickly the hard slap took him by surprise. With a shocked gasp, Thranduil cradled his burning cheek.

"They will rebel, will they not? And you are still on their side against me. Traitor!"

Thranduil's cheek felt raw and swollen. He almost absentmindedly pulled part of his hair to cover it. It had been very long since the last time he needed to hide such bruises.

Oropher was silent too, thrumming his fingers against the chair while he thought.

Then his face suddenly changed, as if he was actually seeing Thranduil for the first time. His eyes softened and he reached out a hand imploringly. "What have I done?" he mumbled. "I am sorry. I am sorry I hit you. But you know what my temperament is like. I cannot always control it..."

His behaviour gave Thranduil a nauseating flashback to his childhood. He would look exactly like that after giving him a particularly harsh punishment. Sad, regretful... and Thranduil would lie with a throbbing, aching body, trying to check his tears as his father murmured apologies and sweet words.

"I know you must think I am a horrible person. Proud and unforgiving."

Thranduil did not reply. You are, he thought.

"And you are right," said Oropher as if he had heard. "I am proud. I too had a part in dividing our people... I said it was only your fault but that was not true. It was mine also." He sighed wistfully.

Thranduil was not sure he was hearing right.

"Your wife and Galadriel believe I sold you out to Maedhros. But Fëanor's sons are clever. They know everything that happens in this region. They have had scouts out for years, monitoring you, us, the humans in the northern lands. They likely knew everything about your colony, and Elwing, and Eärendil – and the Silmaril. Perhaps one of them put the necklace on? Just once would have been enough if a scout happened to see."

Thranduil thought about the traces they had found. There had been spies from Fëanor's sons at least once, and it would be naïve to think they had never been back. But had Elwing really been so careless as to wear the Silmaril?

He recalled how she had looked when the letter came. How she had chosen death over giving it up – abandoning her own children.

It could be true. It was a plausible explanation.

Oropher left the throne and took Thranduil's hands in his. They felt warm. Thranduil felt tired. He could not think clearly.

"Thranduil, listen to me. Look at me! Do you really think I would direct the sons of Fëanor to the city where my son lives, and risk his life to enrich myself?"

My son.

He shook his head.

"That is a relief." Oropher squeezed his hands. "I need you to believe in me. To be loyal. A loyal son."

Son.

"You were never cut out to be a leader; you tend to let your softness blind you and hinder you from getting things done." He wore a kind, sad smile. "I, on the other hand, am a strategist and a politician. I turned this poor Laegrim colony into the prosperous realm you have seen today. I am a good king; your people just do not know it yet. And that is why I need my son to support me and to work for my cause. I need you to swear an oath to do so."

Thranduil straightened, a growing chill slowly trickling down his spine.

An oath. That was what this display of uncharacteristic kindness was about... of course it was because Oropher wanted something from him.

"You would be a link between me and the people. Your wife listens to you, and Galadriel to her, and the people listen to Galadriel. If you swear an oath – with Eru the One as witness – to always be loyal to me then this could actually work. If they complain about something you have to do, you can blame the oath. Just like Maedhros and his brothers."

His gaze wavered. He could not bind himself to Oropher like that. Just talking about oaths so soon after the kinslaying... no. No he did not want to do it.

Oropher cupped the cheek he had slapped, stroking it gently. "I am not suggesting this only as a tactic to avoid rebellion and strife among the people... Being a king is... lonely. I have missed you. I have missed my son."

Tears were pooling in Thranduil's eyes. He tried and failed to hold them back.

Oropher was his father. He should be loyal to him.

But an oath...

He felt so tired. Weak... yes, he was weak. Yes, he tended to let his softness and feelings blind him – his love towards his father was a good example.

And in the end, did he have a choice? If he did not do what Oropher wanted, he might still kick them out. There was no knowing how he would react.

Suddenly Thranduil just wanted to be let out of here. Out of his father's demanding presence and the strain of standing before him.

To eat his fill and go to bed.

"I swear," he said tonelessly. "In the name of Eru Ilúvatar, I swear to be loyal to you until death."

When he said the words it felt like a snare coiled itself around his neck. A leash.

Or chains.

oOo

The refugees filed forward to bow to Oropher and kneel in recognition of their allegiance. Galadriel and Aerneth went last of all, with only the briefest bend of their knees. By the look of it, Galadriel had never been forced to do something so humiliating before, and the glare she gave Oropher before she returned was teeming with hatred.

Afterwards, Oropher was all smiles and politeness now that he had gotten his way. He lamented their wretched state and promised those who had lost everything in the fire that they would get new clothes and anything else they needed.

And there would be a great feast the next day so they could celebrate their newfound unity.

"But enough of this," he said kindly. "You must be weary. Guest rooms have been arranged for you where you will stay until we can arrange more permanent accommodations."

The guest rooms were situated in a house not far from the palace, but Thranduil and Aerneth were invited to stay in Oropher's personal home.

She looked baffled. "I thought he didn't even recognise you as his son," she whispered.

Thranduil did not meet her eyes. "He must have changed his mind."

"I don't want to live with him. I still don't trust he didn't betray us."

"He is our king now. We have to do what he says."

Her mouth became a thin line. "I hate it."

Thranduil's oath tugged at him. "We must make the best of the situation. Adar will treat us well now. We will not lack anything under his roof."

"We will lack freedom." But thankfully she did not make any more objections.

Oropher lived in a talan connected to the palace by a hanging bridge that swayed as they set their feet on it. Eyes drawn to the sheer drop below, Thranduil felt nauseous. It would take a long time to get used to this.

He squeezed the rope railing tightly when he walked across as quickly as he could.

A maid met them, a young Laegrim elleth, who showed them to an airy room with a large bed and bid them to freshen up before dinner. Then they were served a delicious meal with splendid wine – from Galion's vineyard, apparently. Oropher did not even drink wine but had brought it for Thranduil's sake.

Thranduil ate ravenously until he was so full his stomach hurt.

While they ate, Oropher asked more about the visions, and the orcs they had seen, and where they believed it would be safe to go if the world was flooded. Thranduil did all the talking; Aerneth was eating and drinking in sullen silence, refusing to look at her father-in-law.

She excused herself very soon with a low: "I am tired. May I go?"

"You may," said Oropher, frowning.

When they were alone his frown deepened. "Make her behave better next time."

Thranduil could only nod. He had promised. "I will try."

Back in their room, he went over to Aerneth, wrapping his arms around her. "I am sorry it must be this way," he mumbled.

She clung to him. "I hope Ada comes real soon. He will free us from this tyrant."

"Nay... don't... don't think that way. We must have unity. We cannot afford more conflicts. I need you to try to accept this situation. And... not to show your anger with Adar so openly."

She eased herself out of his arms so she could look at him in surprise. "Are you siding with him?"

He evaded her gaze by looking out the window. The room had an astonishing view over the Blue Mountains. "I bent the knee. I don't want to be disloyal."

"Disloyal? He is cruel and heartless and threatened to send us out to the orcs to starve, for the Valars' sake! It wouldn't be disloyal to break a promise to someone like him."

"It would for me."

"What? Why? What is wrong with you?"

When he did not reply, she turned his face towards her, holding it between her hands so he would be forced to meet her eyes. "Are you really going to defend that ellon, Oropherion?"

He winced. He hated when she called him that.

"What are you hiding?" she asked, suddenly looking suspicious. "Don't lie."

Perhaps it was just as well to get it over with and confess. He could not hide it in the long run; sooner or later Oropher would tell her.

"I swore an oath before Eru to be loyal to Adar until death."

She let go of his face like it had scalded her, flinching at the mention of the holy name. "You did what?" she whispered.

"I swore an–"

"Have you completely lost your mind? An oath before the One? An oath? You know what damage such an oath can do, yet you... I can't believe it. I can absolutely not believe it!"

"But it is true." He hung his head.

"For fuck's sake, Oropherion! To be loyal until death? Death? That might never happen! He might never die! Then you are stuck with him forever. Forced to obey him and side with him even when he does cruel things and bad things – and you know he will! He has no conscience. He was prepared to kill us all. To kill you, his own son! Yet you– That is... sick!"

"Please, keep your voice down or he will hear and come in..." He tried to sound calm, tried not to let the sting of her hard words get to him. But it was not easy. For, he had told himself the same things ever since he swore the oath.

Her mouth snapped shut and she turned her back on him. Her whole frame was shaking.

It grew uncomfortably silent. Her words rang in his head. Oropherion. Might never die. Forced to obey.

"Did you ever consider asking me first?" she said in a low, cold voice. "Your wife, if you recall."

He did not reply. It had not crossed his mind to ask her but even if it had, he would have no other choice. He would have condemned her to death if he refused.

She faced him again, her eyes hard as flint but with tears pouring from them. "Well then. It is over. You made your choice and decided to be loyal to that ellon; once again you chose him over me. Then I shall swear also."

"Don't...!" He feebly stretched out a hand as if he could stop her from continuing, but it was too late, she had already begun, speaking in a clear, determined voice.

"I hereby swear that I will never live under Oropher's roof, in this life or the next. For as long as you remain his obedient pawn I will not be your wife. This I swear before Manwë and Varda, and Eru Ilúvatar himself!" She wriggled off her wedding ring, throwing it at the floor. "Farewell, Oropherion."

And she stormed out.

oOo

He stared at the golden band, the coiled golden snake. I can pretend mine is an eel, she had said when they bought the rings a century ago.

He picked it up.

There was a short knock and Oropher entered. "Where did your wife go? And what were you arguing about?"

"Your plan has failed," he said tonelessly, too drained emotionally to wrap it in. "She moved out and is not coming back. I suppose I won't have as much influence over her after all."

"What?"

He held out the ring on his palm. "She is no longer my wife."

"Absurd! That is not how this works at all! Elves marry for life and she cannot refuse you. Bring her back and let me talk some sense into her!"

"She swore an oath. She won't come back. Ever." He felt surprisingly calm when he said it. Or perhaps numb.

Oropher was working himself into a rage again; Thranduil saw the signs. His rapid breathing, blood flushing his face, a pulse throbbing in his forehead.

"And you let her? You were supposed to be loyal to me! You swore!"

"I had no time. She was fast."

Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, shaking him roughly. Thranduil let it happen. Maybe this time his father would kill him.

The prospect felt like a blessing. A way out.

Oropher was yelling things at him but Thranduil no longer listened. Slaps and punches rained over him, and he was pushed into furniture.

He did not feel anything.

It stopped. Oropher collected himself, calmed down. Stroked Thranduil's shoulders and hair soothingly. "I am sorry. I did not mean too..."

Thranduil stopped listening again.

He had sworn an oath to a monster.

oOo

He was alone. Everything hurt; it always did, afterwards. Some strange defence mechanism in his body protected him while it happened but not for long.

He lay on the floor, unmoving. He was shaking but could not say whether it was from pain, heartache, or fear.

He had sworn an oath to a monster.

Slowly rising, he surveyed his body like after battle. A fractured rib, possibly two. A swollen ankle but probably not broken. Bruises everywhere. A cut lip.

Something gleamed on the floor. He had dropped Aerneth's ring; now he picked it up again, twisting it and stroking the tiny snake's head. The ring fit on his little finger.

A monster a monster.

He lay on his bed, pulled the blanket over his head. He wanted to cry but no tears came.

I will not be your wife.

He turned his face against the wall, clenching his fist and pressing it against his mouth to hold back a wail of anguish. What had he done?

What had he done?

He had sworn an oath to a monster.

❈ ❦ ❈

A/N:

People like Oropher exist. Ambitious, manipulative, willing to do anything to get their way. Lacking a conscience. They tend to be either in jail, or very successful CEO:s...

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