The Witch's Destiny || Thranduil

Chapter X

Pardon the intrusion here, but I realized I messed up Violet's age by a year. I've been writing she's 28, when in fact, that is wrong. She will turn 28 on her next birthday, which, in universe is technically only about a month away. I also realized that this makes the Battle of Hogwarts 10 years ago, and not 11, which I have also been writing! This story takes place in the year 2008 Earthen time/2941 Middle-Earth time. And in my brain, I was going, "Oh, the final battle is in 1997!" even though every time I would look it up to make sure, it was 1998. It's only just registered. So, here I am at 4 A.M. having an epic realization and if you see me 'updating' every chapter, I'm going through and fixing those mistakes.

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It was a strange thing, eating breakfast with another family. Mealtimes were everyone's private times to be with their family. But, somehow, the morning meal was everyone's most vulnerable time. Regardless of whether elves truly slept or not, most spend their nights drifting in and out of that place between awake and sleep, walking amongst their dreams.

For humans, especially those that aren't morning people, it makes them more likely to say something that they usually wouldn't in the middle of the day. That was one reason Violet was thankful she was quiet in the mornings, a contrast to her usual self. She needed time to fully awaken before her brain would work.

Legolas, it seemed, was the opposite. He was more child-like in the mornings. The prince had always been a happy, talkative elf, but in the mornings he was joyful, like he had frolicked through meadows in his dreams the night before.

King Thranduil, on the other hand, was somehow sterner. Perhaps his own dreams were not that great. He was more irritable, and Violet had seen his eye twitching occasionally when Legolas talked too loud, but he rarely scolded his son about it.

The Elven-king sipped quietly on tea with a quill in hand and parchment in front of him, his head bare of a crown and his fingers bare of rings. He wore but a simple linen tunic with pants of a similar style. On his feet were slippers and his hair was French braided down his back. A bowl of porridge sat in front of him with fresh fruit delicately placed to look appealing.

Legolas, by contrast, was already ready for the day, minus his hair and shoes. He wore brown leggings and a forest green long-sleeved tunic that extended almost to his knees, cut at the front, back, and sides to allow for better movement. His hair was free from any restraint, flowing around his face, providing a safe haven for the beloved Flufflepuff to rest in. The Pygmy Puff was quietly sleeping, content purrs slipping out of him and tiny breaths of hot air going across Legolas's neck. The prince's feet were bare, and Violet was a little jealous that he could walk on the cold stone floor without issue.

Violet, frankly, looked like a train wreck compared to the two elves beside her. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail that was almost completely fallen from her head. She wore her usual pajamas of a t-shirt and men's sweatpants, with slippers covering her feet and a knitted blanket with a V from Mrs. Weasley wrapped around her shoulders. Her eyes were zoned out, staring at a carved pillar that held the cavern from collapsing on them. Her knees were pulled up to her chest in the large captain's back chair and on them she balanced a cup of her own tea with her hands clutched around the mug, as similar as English breakfast tea as she would find in Middle-Earth.

On a plate in front of her sat a croissant, sausage links, and two of the best sunny side up eggs she had ever seen in her life.

A featherlight touch on her arm made her twist her head, looking Legolas in the eyes.

"You need to eat," he said, "Before it gets cold."

King Thranduil smirked, taking another sip of tea. His bowl of porridge had been emptied, as well as Legolas's own breakfast. She had been so zoned out that she didn't realize they had already eaten.