Talvace

Unfounded nervousness crept into the back of Thranduil’s thoughts at his father’s arrival to the apple orchard. No matter how many times he’d proven himself to Dvalinn, Thranduil always found himself praying that he wouldn’t disappoint the other bull. How could he expect to stand out as an individual to such a well known Rukaan with such a large group of offspring? The clash of antlers meeting antlers sounded from across the field, briefly drawing Thranduil’s attention to the yearly sparring. Every fall Rukaan young and old, bull and cow gathered to prove their skills and strength to the others and to claim the best territories and mates. Last year, Thranduil hadn’t bothered to attend. He was content with his herd and their style of roaming where they pleased. However, this year he’d come to the proving grounds to reestablish a name for himself and attempt to earn his father’s favor. Thranduil couldn’t accept that he’d had Dvalinn’s favor since the beginning. “Hello, Thranduil,” a