way back home // legolas

COFFEE FOR THE ELVEN KING // one shot

COFFEE FOR THE ELVEN KING

It might be implausible for some, but Legolas knew how much the great Elven King hated the cold seasons.

For one, imported goods from Dale are usually delayed when the snow started sticking on the ground, as mortals cannot easily endure the harsh weather. Another was as much as Thranduil loves his long, elegant robes, sometimes with all of his duties as king, it would get in the way (although Legolas briefly remember in his younger days when he used to hide behind those robes), ending up disrupting most of his work. And last, it would remind him the days he felt most lonely - the day his wife died in the hands of the orcs in Gundabad. He remembered the smallest things - how the hooves of his elk crushed every snowflake it passed, the filthy orc blood running on his twin swords, even the lifeless eyes of all the soldiers he lost on their way to rescue the queen - and yet, he cannot fathom why he could not remember carrying her home, heart filled with hope that she survives, mind stuffed with thoughts that he was too late, he lost her, he failed yet again.

Little did he know that young Legolas saw it all. And he never forget; he never really did. He was young at that time, an awkward ellon still getting used of the thought of being a prince, always behind the shadows, and that day, hidden as he always was, but watching with electric keen eyes, he saw his heart wrenched father and soul spent mother. And every first day of snow, he would remind himself that his father would be at his worst - secluded and reserved. Quiet, too quiet. If a servant made something wrong, he would most often say words he doesn't mean, and being stubborn as he always was, would not apologize to them.

Legolas felt obligated to be there for him, because who will? Everyone's either too afraid or too angry at him. The thing is, he understands. And he knows just the thing that can calm him.

He woke up to the sounds of soft wails from a young servant, and he knew it was the day. The prince looked out from his window, and saw it, white droplets of cold covering the grounds of Mirkwood. Groggily, he took a warm bath, wore a long sleeved green tunic and trousers that reached his ankle - clothes not fit for a day in the woods (as per his father's wish. The prince's disappearing act still not amuses him.). Grabbing the jar the young girl Nina gave him, he dashed to the kitchen to prepare.

The kitchen for the royal family is separated from the common kitchen. It is located just right beside the royal dining room, where only the king, the prince and special guests (per the royal's decision) eat the meals prepared by Miel, the head chef of the kingdom and best cook of all Mirkwood. She had served the royal family ever since Legolas was still a little boy, and during the years passed the elleth had understood the tastebuds of the finicky king and his son.

Because of that however, on that particular day, she was furious when the prince had entered the kitchen quite forcefully and without permission. The prince served himself with two cups, ordered her assistants around, asking for hot water, sugar, milk, and cinnamon. He brought out a jar filled with black powder and not recognizing what it was, she decided to cut him off before he could take a scoop.

"My prince," she firmly held his wrist, "What is that? What are you doing?"

The prince smiled - she remembered that smile. She last saw it when he was a young ellon, asking her help on baking his father a birthday cake.

"Miel!" he greeted. "Have you served Ada his tea? Or he asked for wine, didn't he?"

She shook her head, her grip softening. He looked too cheerful. "Uhm, not yet, he haven't even-"

"Good, good!" Legolas slowly removed her grip on his hand and continued on with his task. "I'll serve him his drink - he'll absolutely love this, I know it."

Miel sighed, and lifted her trust on Legolas to the Valar. She so wanted to tell him that his father specifically asked for the strongest wine to be served to him that morning, but seeing that young ellon once again, the ellon who wanted to make his father happy, she decided to keep her mouth shut and instead went back to her own work, cooking breakfast for the two. You better appreciate what your son made for you, Thranduil, she whispered to herself.

The prince, on the other hand, finished making two cups of coffee the way he liked it - the sweetness, creaminess and bitterness balanced, the aroma of the coffee and cinnamon filled the air. He noticed the other servants exchanging curious glances, and he knew he had done it perfectly.

"The king has arrived," Tauriel entered the kitchen through the door connected to the dining room. She was surprised to see the prince balancing two cups on a tray, and being his friend, she offered her help and Legolas kindly declined it right away.

"He's here, you say?" he asked.

"Yes, mellon. And quite grumpy. He's eager for his cup of wine."

The prince frowned. "Not today, Tauriel."

Slowly, the prince went for the dining room. Upon shutting the door, Thranduil's voice boomed inside the whole room.

"Tauriel! Where is my wine?!" Thranduil had yet to notice that it was his son who entered. When he answered, his heart quickly melted.

"Ada, it is I," The prince murmured. He carefully dropped the tray he was carrying in front of his father and proceeded to seating on his right.

"Ionneg, a pleasant morning," Thranduil sighed.

"Really? From what I heard, Ada, the morning was not pleasant for you at all."

Thranduil looked at his son, amused, an eyebrow raised. Then, to Legolas' surprise, he rolled his eyes. "You know how I can be."

Legolas laughed. "As a matter of fact, yes I do. That is why I have made something for you." The ellon pushed a cup towards his father. He eyed it carefully, debating if it was a new kind of wine or tea he had never heard before. Thranduil inhaled its aroma, and once it registered on his picky nose, his eyes got wide and realized how tempting it is.

"What is this?"

"The humans call it coffee," Legolas explained, taking a sip of his own. The king looked interested - he was still waiting for his wine, but judging by the eyes of his beloved son, he does not want to disappoint him just yet, especially if he had prepared something as intoxicating as this. Besides, the weather is cold - and drinking something warm would not hurt.

Slowly, the king lifted the cup to his lips, careful not to burn his tongue, and once it reached his mouth, he kept one eye closed, the other on his expectant yet joyful eyes of his son. It's been a long time since he last saw those eyes, and he realized how much it means for him to see his own father enjoy something he likes.

The drink was not something he expected - it was everything in just one drink. He first tasted the bittery strong sensation, which quickly woke his senses up. Then came the sweetness of the cinnamon and sugar that he quickly recognized, making him remember the pastries he used to love as a kid. Finally came the taste of creamy goodness, finishing off the perfect balance in the drink. He realized how different it was from all the wines and teas he'd tasted. He realized it could be a mix of everything he likes - strong yet relaxing, bitter yet addicting.

Thranduil did not even realize he had both eyes closed, and when he opened them, his son was grinning, a finished cup on his hand.

"It's good, is it not?" Legolas asked. It was rhetorical, and he laughed as soon as he saw his father speechless.

"Elrond will be jealous - I now know the taste of the best drink to ever exist."

"I know right!" Legolas exclaimed, which received an eyebrow raised from his father. Thranduil was still not used to his son's new ways of speaking, but nevertheless, he was glad he's back - and with a new drink he's sure would be the reason of more days spent drinking with him.

("Can you make me another cup?" Thranduil asked Legolas, who was busy reading.

Legolas rolled his eyes. "Ada, if I make you another one, that would be your sixth cup! Just this morning!"

Thranduil frowned, which Legolas answered with a sigh.)