Chapitre 1: I will brake but i will not bend
Thranduil woke up suddenly when he heard a metal noise.
It was their way of doing it. The guards probably had fun as soon as they found an excuse to annoy them.
That cell had become familiar, but that's not why he let his guard down.
He had discovered that showing himself extremely aggressive had the advantage to him.
He was never put together with the other prisoners or to sleep or eat, but only to practice in the arena.
He who called himself Thranduil's master didn't want to lose his precious goods because of him, and knew that a warrior like him was important to his earnings.
The elven king didn't enjoy hurting people, but it was necessary to earn respect from the other prisoners. In his kingdom, he gained the trust and loyalty of the elves not only by the title of king, but by administering the kingdom to prosper and thinking of the well-being and safety of his people.
While here, the human beings he was with, they really looked like animals. Maybe they were aggressive just to raise their position as he did, or they were naturally crude.
But the curiosity of the gladiators around him was dampened by his desire to escape. He wouldn't have created any ties to anyone, otherwise they would have disadvantaged him, giving the enemy a weapon to use against him.
So it had been a hundred sixty-seven years .
In this time, he was able to get to know his prisoners well.
The Romans were a prosperous people. They extended the territory through many battles, citizens were divided into social groups and power was held by a handful of men.
But most of them were corrupt men.
Powerful avidities that took every opportunity to increase it, and the money seemed the only thing they wanted.
Especially his master. He didn't remember his name, not that he cared, but the few times he could observe, he had been able to see the cruel man's eyes, enough that he would turn away. Besides the unhealthy ego that he would transpose from every word he said, just like his fathers.
The elven king was aware that the master was endured by his own people only because of him.
He had a warrior out of the ordinary, who had never been defeated and his ancestor was considered a great lanist, since he had managed to capture him.
Thranduil knew well that the lanists were on the lowest social scale, but entertaining the people and respecting the holidays with great shows was very important.
Even though it was a long time ago, he couldn't escape.
The chains, torture, and fighting characterized its existence.
The victories had increased the fame and fear that everyone felt about him.
The Romans called him Azrael, the angel of death, to fear his opponents. Even if he had to say they weren't excellent warriors, that's why he was able to defeat them all.
Many elves would have vanished in life like this, but in him there was still hope that he could escape and return to his only son, Legolas.
Yes, his son. That son who was involuntarily abandoned with the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. He was certain that he would not disappoint Thranduil and be a great ruler, but he was sad to think that, exactly as he had happened to him, he had found himself young, alone and with such great responsibility.
They probably already gave him for dead a long time ago. It was impossible not to think that.
He disappeared one spring morning, leaving no trace of himself.
That day everything changed!
Thranduil was running fast towards the realm of Imladris. Another meeting with the White Council would have been held to discuss increasing darkness and it was vital that he was there.
Legolas insisted on coming, but in the end he was convinced by his father to stay in the kingdom to watch over it during the king's absence.
It was more of a command from sovereign to subjected than a conversation between father and son, and Thranduil had promised himself that once he returned, he would try to get close to his son.
The king and the Elven patrol had only done the necessary stops to get the horses back, without risking being in one place too long, and attracting unwanted attention.
They were almost at their destination when someone attacked them.
The biggest surprise was to find out that they were only human, they were wrapped in long black capes and had quickly surrounded Thranduil and his company.
"Whatever happens, protect the king." Ordered one of the royal guards, drawing his daggers.
"Gurth goth(rim)lye!" (Death to our enemies!) screamed another elf to encourage and courage.
But the high number of humans had decreed their defeat. Four were taken prisoners. The humans had torn apart the bodies of the fallen and set them on fire to lose all traces.
The trip was long and tiring. Locked in a small cell posted on a wagon, the elves were treated like animals. One of them died on the journey due to the wounds that were found in the fight and never treated.
Thalion was his name. A young guard who traveled with his king for the first time, not knowing that it would be the last.
The other two were named Narwain and Galdor, a little older than Thranduil's son.
Once they arrived in the capital of the human world, they had been sold at auction and Thranduil, since then, had not seen the two young elves again.
The first few years they subjected him to atrocious torture. But not to kill him, just to humiliate him further. With that punishment they wanted to take away his little dignity and let him down the ridge once and for all! They had partly succeeded, since he now obeyed, not everyone, but many of the orders he was given.
Pain had become his only partner, and with his wonder, his sensitivity had strengthened... a desperate attempt by his body to survive.
He got used to physical pain.
The next few years he spent them without letting anyone know what he was thinking. Locked in a mutism that expressed how much he felt injured by himself for bending. That's what he thinks, because his prisoners only thought they had tamed him.
It was completely unexpected. One night, a new shipment of prisoners arrived. Slaves, survivors of their people slaughtered and men ripped from their families with the false promise of freedom in the event of victory.
A little boy in particular drew his attention. Not just because he was the only one who was so small in that group of slaves, who were all very young. According to human years, they should not have more than 20, but because of the vibrancy he could see in his little eyes. The few children he had met had lost that characteristic of naive youth, aware that the life he had been looking for would not be easy.
The little one had very dark skin, the shallow body and the short fluffy hair. Thranduil turned to observe the child with curiosity. He probably wasn't more than five human years old.
He was put in a cell with him, because the other prisoners beat him. Azrael never showed himself aggressive with the children and wouldn't start doing it.
He lay down on his cot and tried to get some rest in vain. He felt a little hand holding on to his left arm and opened his eyes to see that the child had climbed into the cot and tried to lie by his side.
He knew why. His cot was positioned near the bars of the cell adjacent to theirs and perhaps he was afraid his occupants might hurt him. While his was stuck to the wall.
You could say that this child was either very stubborn or very foolish.
It was strange that he was getting closer to him and even confidence.
Thranduil sighed and turned to his left flank to make a place. After a shy "Thank you" in clear contrast to his behavior, the child lied next to him and collapsed in exhaustion.
The next morning, the little one decided to be heard. As they were having breakfast, the interrogation began.
"What is your name? Is it true that you elves cannot die? Do you really know how to fight with both the spear and the sword? I am Atticus!"
He must have become a slave recently since he was still full of life.
Thranduil sighed and didn't answer, decided to ignore him. Atticus didn't seem to take it, and his curiosity manifested itself as a hurricane when he went to bother the neighbors.
During Atticus' training, water was to be given to gladiators. As a young man, too young to start training, it was being used otherwise.
The elf was not surprised when he noticed that others were careful to treat the child well, fearing his reaction if they even scratched him.
It was amazing how humans had the presumption of knowing perfectly what was happening around them. He didn't care about the baby's fate.
It was shortly after noon when Atticus joined Thranduil to eat.
"My mom cooked much better! But I always fought with my brothers because they were very hungry! My father was a very good hunter but he did not catch very big animals."
All he did was talk about his homeland and his family. As he spoke, he seemed homesick, but content nonetheless.
And he wouldn't stop waving on his stool. If he moves on like this....it'd be too late! Big laughter came from the next room, divided by their bars, as soon as they saw the boy fall on the ground.
He will not last a week. He laughed at the one who was second to Thranduil as a sword skill. "If it had been a girl, it would have been a lot more probable." He said another by referring to something horrible and earning a deadly look from the elf, which made him stop laughing as quickly as he had started.
Atticus proved to be tough by getting up with apparent calm and finishing eating his meal. He was no longer as agitated, partly intimidated by adults and partly because he learned his lesson.
To rest comfortably, Thranduil swapped cot with Atticus to make sure he was resting. The fact that he didn't care about him didn't mean he was gonna be cruel.
In the morning, the elf was training with Dolor, a known fighter with a strong hand. It could have been a lethal fight since the wooden swords were strong enough to break a skull, but Thranduil knew it was not wise to overcome his master's second best gladiator.
He preferred the use of two swords, even though he had learned to handle all the other types of weapons used in the arena, while his opponent handled a sword and a big shield.
When the rival landed, the master ordered them to change their fighting companion. But as Thranduil was headed towards the next opponent, a reckless attacked him. He was used to it.
To be seen by many people, they tried to surprise him trying to make the most of it in the hope of winning and impress the master, even though no one ever did.
Thranduil fell down his back, but he quickly stood back up, laying a knee and a hand on the ground, posing the sword behind his back ready to block the next blow. But as the madman was loading the shot, a great look of pain painted his face and he collapsed on his knees.
The elf saw that Atticus had hit him in the knee with a wooden sword, giving the man pain, he must have struck the nerve.
The little boy immediately regretted the gesture and screamed when the man grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air.
Fear was replaced by surprise when Thranduil freed him by feeling his opponent with a blow.
Not content, the elf continued to fidel on the poor man who could do nothing but suffer in silence, in the hope that the guards would save him.
That happened. The guards beat Azrael with their sticks to understand that he should not do it again and dragged him into a small cramped cell where they chained him with his face in front of the wall and his arms outstretched at the top, to keep him grounded without water and food, until the master had decided to free him.
Thranduil acted unnecessarily only to vent some of his anger.
But not to the villain.....
What was his reason for acting out so foolishly? Why had he defended the child? Why did he feel compelled to do so?
He kept fidgeting, tinkling his chains and banging his head against the wall. He hated himself! Why? Atticus was a mortal who would live a handful of the elves' years..... why bother? He never cared about men, and now, after all they had done to him, why should he care about such a corrupt and cruel race?!
The cell door opened and a blow to the head knocked him unconscious.
When he woke up, he knew he was in his cell.
He could barely sit down. All the new wounds were protesting as he kept his gaze from looking at the child.
A hiccup made him turn to Atticus' cot and saw him... the poor boy had a black eye and a lot of bruises to his head, but his arms also had wounds, as well as the rest of his body.
They punished him, too.
Thranduil smiled sadly, a gentleness coming over him
He had protected thousands of elves for centuries and now he couldn't defend a child!
He didn't understand why but felt he had to protect that child.
Being lost was a feeling he had to get used to, while he was a slave, but he was certain of what he wanted: to go back to Legolas!
All the other gladiators were in their cells, lying on their bunks.
It was appeared to be night. The elf was confused, he must have fainted longer than he had previously believed.
What was more likely, was the Romans drugged him to keep him from getting hurt any further.
"I thought you were dead..." A little voice reached his ear and saw that Atticus had kneeled next to him.
"It takes more than that to kill me." Azrael answered.
"Dieu merci!" He said the little
"What?" Thranduil frowned at this newfound language.
"I said thank God! My mom always spoke French to me! That's how they talked in the city where they were born!" Explained Atticus.
Azrael sat on his cot, "Where are they?" He asked, not sure that he wanted to hear the answer.
"I don't know! The Romans said I'll never see them again. They burned my house and my brothers have been sold too!" Atticus trembled, one step away from the crying.
"I see... it will be alright. Now sleep, tomorrow will be a busy day." Thranduil told Atticus, who obeyed without making a fuss.
"We are friends, are we?" The child's question was unexpected, but Thranduil couldn't stop a smile from being formed in his face "Yes, Atticus. I am Azrael." He answered before slipping into a deep, peaceful rest.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
X98
X98 All right, I don't know if it's interesting as a start, but it's an idea I've decided to write!
I will refer both to the 2014 Pompeii film and to the Spartacus series besides the Middle Earth of which Thranduil will be the lead.
I hope it'll tease your interest! And not to completely overturn the King of Mirkwood! (I always have a hard time playing myself into him and I would not like to make him another person compared to the proud, private sovereign of the movie!)
Let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions to give me!
See you soon,
X-98
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