By Alku04
Word Count: 6880
Rated: G
Summary: Thranduil takes time off his busy schedule to spend among the tree boughs an evening with young Legolas.
This story is kinda based off the movie versions of the Hobbit. Thranduil was portrayed as very cold and reserved toward his son, but there was no doubt that he loved Legolas fiercely. This is a tiny glimpse into my take of their relationship before it got too distant.
“Ada? Why is the sky blue?” asked a small inquisitive voice casually from across the large wooden expanse of Thranduil’s desk. Little cerulean eyes watched the elder elf, hoping to get an answer from his father who was preoccupied by some clerical duties. The child swung his legs lightly while they dangled off the chair he was seated upon, and the small prince found a new distraction in tracing the wood grain pattern of the work table with his finger. He looked up though, still waiting for his question to be answered.
“Because it just is,” the king replied back, but he was far too distracted with his work to offer more than that easy matter-of-fact statement. His sights never lifted from the scroll laid out before him and his fluid pen strokes never faltered.
The tiny fingers continued to trace the ringed lines of the desk, letting his father’s statement be the only answer he received on the matter, but it only made him think that much harder over more unexplainable questions. The smooth surface of the desk suddenly became a roughened bump when the darker lines ran into a knot in the wood and the little prince dropped his hands to his lap.
“Why are the trees green?”
With a sigh to drum up an explanation and to keep the king’s mind clear, Thranduil gave another short answer so he would not get off topic from his more pressing issues.
“Because Ilúvatar wanted to make them that way, Ion-nin.”
The child gave a breathless sigh. That, like the last answer, shed no light on the inner workings of the world, but the responses he received left him discouraged to ask more. All he wanted to do was see his father who always seemed to be too busy with the kingdom. And today was no different than the last day, or even the one before that. In fact, the elfling could not quite remember the last time he had seen his father not engulfed in his work.
The little prince turned in his chair to glance out the windows of the study and take in the unique view of the realm Mirkwood. From here the windows were a little higher than the common buildings found thorough the area and he could see much farther into the thick forests than he could when standing on the ground.
Shafts of warm light created occasional glowing beams through the shaded forests, among the clusters of broad tree trunks that stood tall, proud and strong. Green carpets of moss covered the forest floor, and various birds and small mammals moved about as they went on with their daily rituals.
The child turned back to his father and resumed watching the king work, but there was nothing stimulating about the scribbling quill and the lack of sound. He began to swing his legs again, this time with a little extra effort and his boot heels connected with the sturdy leg of his chair, sending off a dull crack in the otherwise quiet room.
“Ada? Why –”
“Legolas,” Thranduil cut him off as the pen in his fingers halted. His head came up briefly to glance at his son, allowing his voice to carry across clearly. He needed to concentrate on this latest issue and the elfling was not helping his thought process. “Why do you not go find your friends and play with them for a time, hum?” His voice was not harsh, but its sternest was far too clear not to be taken as anything other than a dismissal.
The prince ceased his fidgety movements and sat there while his father turned back to work. The quilled pen scratched the ink into the parchment, smearing diplomatic texts across the plain surface and forcing any bit of socialization to dissolve.
His father’s constant brushing off had become an unfortunate part of his everyday life, but it was one Legolas grew to accept without question. It was ingrained in his unique upbringing – being raised by one royal parent who had to choose work over his own child. The prince knew his father was not actually upset with him, nor did Thranduil love him any less, but the curt reply began to grate on a chord of disappointment deep within the young prince.
Soundlessly, the child slid from his seat and padded to the door to let himself out. It was pointless to tell his father that his friends were busy today. Most of them were off spending time with their parents and siblings since formal lessons and practice sessions came to an early close. It was best to keep his mouth shut so he would not be assigned boring reading lessons to keep him quietly occupied and the king free.
Legolas paused in the doorway and looked back at his father. He opened his mouth to ask when he would be done, hoping to resume his time with the elder elf later, but he quickly shut it. The stacks of parchments on the desk spoke of a long and grueling afternoon full of labor-intensive thought, and the little elf knew his father would most likely be busy until the sun set – or even longer.
Legolas moved forward with his retreat and ventured off on his own in search of something to do.
Being so wrapped up in his mind, Thranduil hardly realized the dismissal of his son and easily dove into the depths of his duties without any outside distractions. Winter food rations had to be calculated, the threat of orcs was on the rise, the neighboring city of Laketown had sent multiple requests for aid and supplies, and the Lord of Rivendell was attempting to re-forge contact that had been severed between the two realms after the turnout of the Last Great Alliance so many years ago.
It was hard to find resolutions on the topics and many of the matters needed to be further discussed before a council. But the king did his best on his own and at least he started the brainstorming on each subject. Letters and pages were poured over with strategic diligence and one by one, the mail cluttering the king’s desk began to clear. The last one, however, was not so easily picked up. He stared at the letter from Lord Elrond that rested off to the side of his work area. The dignified handwriting oddly felt like it had a mind of its own and watched the Woodland king and his every move.
Abruptly, Thranduil reached out to the page, but rather than pull it close, he simply turned it over. He did not know how he really felt right now, as the Noldor-elves seemed to have faded from his thoughts entirely. It was odd that they were reaching out now to reconnect after all these years. Or that was what Thranduil assumed the letter was about. He still had to read the contents of the note to understand its importance, but right now he struggled to find the desire to do so.
Thranduil’s mind began to wander and it was no surprise that he found himself thinking back to that massive historic battle. It had been a reluctant agreeance to answer Elrond’s call for help and stand beside Rivendell’s army. However, Greenwood had joined the war of men and elves in an all-out battle to free Middle-earth from the darkness that was washing over the land.
The outcome had been a victory for the good forces, but it only devastated Greenwood. They lost their king – and Thranduil lost his father. Oropher’s light was blown out far too soon and his death left an ill-prepared Thranduil to take charge of Greenwood while staying strong for his fighting people.
Thranduil did not exactly blame Elrond for the outcome of the war, but it was still hard to think back to that difficult time and not have conflicting views on the past. Far too many elven lives were lost, and it left a sour taste in the king’s mouth as many families were still dealing with the effects of life without loved ones. Besides, it seemed the war became a massive turning point in Thranduil’s life, placing everything upon his young shoulders and forcing him to use every ounce of skill, power and strength he had to keep Greenwood from falling apart. That in itself left him struggling to find time to cope with the grief produced by losing his father while time slipped away without much contact between the two realms.
But that was not the only life-changing event to have taken place to jump the course of history. The death of his wife had led the Woodland king to retreat further into the depths of his thick forests, leaving him with more grief to untangle while raising his only child to be Mirkwood’s future.
Thranduil sat back in his chair and passed a hand over his eyes to try and find some sort of calming influence. He blinked a few times to chase away the residual memories, and when he took in the layout of his study, he found the chair on the opposite side of the desk was empty.
“Legolas?” he called out and looked around the room to try and find his son who had been there only a few moments ago. His blue eyes passed by the window and he did a double take on the outside world as the late afternoon sun began its ritual of casting the forests into darker shades.
He was stunned. The king did not realize how much time had passed and Thranduil stood to his feet, baffled. He did one more sweep with his sights to try and find his young son, but suddenly memory snagged his mind. He vaguely recalled delivering words that would have sent anyone on their way.
Thranduil’s stomach dropped and he groaned inwardly. He knew exactly how his words came across and he kicked himself mentally for not seeing the effects of his comment earlier.
“Ai Elebreth…” The king sighed to himself. “What have I done?” He looked to the desk and all of the work he had accomplished, but it left him with little satisfaction in knowing he had ignored his own son to pay more attention to pieces of paper.
The Woodland king gathered the parchments and placed them in a drawer. Though he was far from finished with them, his conscience told him he was done for the day. His kingly duties needed to be shelved and the letter from Elrond would have to wait. Right now, he needed focus as a father, not a king.
The door to his study swung open suddenly and Thranduil looked up with hopeful features, expecting to see his son enter. Instead he found his servant, Galion, letting himself in with a fresh armload of mail.
“My lord, I have more news, I am afraid…” the servant said with a hinted sarcastic smile as he tried to make light of the non-comical matter. Galion walked to the desk to deposit the letters that arrived only moments ago.
Thranduil’s face tightened into unpleasant disappointment, but he ignored the collection of correspondences.
“Have you seen Legolas?” he asked, but the servant shook his head.
“Nay, your grace. I thought he was here with you.” The letters were dropped on the work table and the servant finished his reply with a cordial, yet shallow bow.
That last statement struck Thranduil with a flash of guilt, but he did not let it show in his smooth, handsome features.
“I can find him for you, if you wish.” the servant offered.
Thranduil declined. “That will not be necessary. I will go find him.” The king rounded his desk to leave, but he was halted by his butler’s apprehensive counter.
“Thranduil… my lord… with all due respect, I must remind you that you have a meeting starting soon.” As if to illustrate what he meant, Galion held out a hand, palm up, presenting the sight of a window that clearly indicated what time it was by way of light.
Thranduil had completely forgotten about the meeting, and he paused briefly. “Cancel it,” he stated. He glanced at his servant and noted the look of dread crossing his face from being dealt the unwanted task. The king knew it was a massive undertaking, as the council members would be up in arms over the last-minute abandonment, but the king honestly did not care about that right now. He had made them a priority for far too long, and their needs could come second for once. “Tell the members I will reschedule and personally send out a notice when I find a better time.”
With a grim nod, Galion bowed and Thranduil turned to leave.
Thranduil searched for the better part of an hour to locate his son, but when he did, the king was surprised he had even found him at all. A small distance from the palace, a grove of sturdy oak trees surrounded a mossy glen and it was in the thick branches of the ancient arbors that a hummed tune could be heard. It acted as a beacon for the elf-king and he followed the soft uplifting notes that led him closer to his son.
“Legolas?” the king called out, and the humming abruptly ceased.
Thranduil had his eyes glued to the trees, trying to locate the prince, but his searching came to a close when a small blond head poked out from some branches up a tree in order to spy his father.
“Ada?” Legolas’ voice bordered shock. He did not expect his father to come out here looking for him and it left a sinking feeling in his core. He knew how much work Thranduil had and the fact that his father was not doing it, but was now here trying to find him instead, surely did not bode well. The child swallowed hard and stared back at the elder elf with a tinge of worry clouding his visage.
“What are you doing up there?” The king looked about the woods surrounding them to see if there were any others present, but he had a gut feeling that Legolas was the only one here and he did not like it. He knew the woods this close to the palace were deemed safe, but the thought of the youngster wandering unsupervised did not exactly sit well. The prince was far too young to fend for himself and if anything did dare to stray this close to the kingdom, he would hold no chance against it.
Thranduil’s initial question went unnoticed and the king persisted. “Are you by yourself?” But the inquest was answered when Thranduil rounded the tree to better see his son, and the prince’s space was not shared.
The disappointment in the king’s soft tone was clear to the child’s ears.
“I am sorry, Adar,” Legolas mumbled and looked away from his father’s gaze that begged for a better answer. The last thing the prince wanted right now was to be in trouble, but he seemed to have found it anyway.
The fatherly worry in the elf-king twisted, for his mind took to dark paths and he could not bear to even think of losing his only child.
“Legolas? Why are you out here?”
The little elf shook his head. He had no real answer and felt like he was in the wrong. Sensing a lecture on the rise, the elfling scrambled to his knees to begin shimmying down the tree while he spoke fast. He hoped his father was not too upset.
“I just wanted to come out here. I know you are busy. I did not mean to make you worry. There was nothing else to do.” The prince let the words tumble from his lips as his nerves worked into his light voice, but he started when strong hands reached up to grab him. Tenderly, he was pulled away from the tree branches that he was descending.
The king shifted his son gently so they were facing each other, but rather than plant his child on the ground as Legolas expected, his weight was balanced on Thranduil’s hip while being held.
Thranduil let out a heavy breath to ease the chiding his fatherly instincts made him give. “I just expect a little more caution from you, ion-nin.” But even as he gave the small sermon, a slight smile worked its way into the corners of his lips, letting his son know it was said out of love, rather than ill will.
“I know.” The prince replied with a whisper, but still he refused to look at his father. His culpability began to fester.
Thranduil watched as his son painstakingly keep his eyes from view, and the awkward tension between them grew. It was Thranduil’s turn to look away and he did so with a heavy heart. It was such a shame. It was almost as if they did not know how to be around each other anymore, and the elf-king shook his head. It was his fault things had become so distant between them and he knew it.
He looked back to the branch that Legolas had perched upon and saw that the roughened bark on the top of the branch looked a little worn, voicing the fact that that very spot was well-used.
Thranduil let out another sigh. “Do you come here often?” he implored almost sadly, trying to get his son to speak, and the prince nodded without eye contact. “How often do you come out here?”
“When…” the prince started, but halted. He did not want to get in trouble for being out here, nor did he want any restrictions laid on this place, but he did not know what to say nor what Thranduil really wanted to hear.
The king waited, but it was evident the child did not want to continue.
“Legolas…” Thranduil’s soft warning provoked the prince to speak despite his hesitancy.
“I come out here… when everyone is busy.”
“Everyone?” the king repeated the single word as a question, and Legolas nodded once more. “What of your friends, Legolas? Do you not want to play with them?”
Thranduil knew his son had a strong circle of close friends who liked Legolas for who he was, rather than his title of prince. So it was odd that the child was here by himself, not running about with the other children.
“They are busy.” The statement was simple and short.
“All of them?” Thranduil pressed, but he began to feel let down at his own logic. It was not the responsibility of his son’s friends nor their families to entertain the prince constantly. Of course they had their own lives and personal duties that had to be tended to at some point. Yet it was hard to believe that everyone was busy right now.
“Avourel?” The king asked as an example.
“He and his brothers are visiting with family on the north side.”
“Cainir?”
“He is not allowed to play today. He got in trouble for not completing his chores and his mother told him he is to spend the day doing them.”
Thranduil almost chuckled at the thought of being young and grounded, but now was not the time to laugh.
“Valiändier?” His voice held more hope at this name, for he seemed to be the closest to the prince of them all, but he became let down when the prince responded to the negative.
“His father took him hunting this morning and will not be back for a few days.”
Thranduil nodded grimly. He knew a few more of the prince’s friends by name, but so far the elfling proved they were all unavailable.
“Well…” Thranduil said in thought and gave a slight pause. “Would you mind if I joined you?”
The prince’s tentative nature seemed to be forgotten and a certain brightness found its way into his hopeful eyes as he looked back at his father, speechless.
“But…” the prince started. “I thought… I thought you were busy.”
“I am,” the king agreed. “But I think I can steal away for a while… if you would have me here.”
The wide-eyed stare of his son melted away and was instantly replaced by a wide smile. “Of course, Ada!“
The young prince’s glee was contagious, and Thranduil snorted lightly with a humorous puff of air. The elder elf set his sights on the tall tree and studied the canopy of woven branches.
“So… what were you doing in the tree? Shall we resume?”
The prince shrugged his shoulders, but this time it was carefree. “I was singing about the forest,” Legolas admitted. “I like to come here and sit in the tree. You can see everything from up there!”
“Everything?” the king said in feigned wonder as his son started to open up with his newly found joy.
“Well… not everything, but you can see more of the forest from up there than you can from here! Come, Ada! I’ll show you!”
The prince turned in his father’s grasp, reached for the tree, and Thranduil aided him. He lifted his son up and placed him back in the sturdy arms of the stiff lumber before he too reached high above to grab a limb. With poise and ease, the Woodland king began to climb into the off-shoots that formed a ladder from the forest floor.
“See!” the prince exclaimed as he already took to looking about the woods. When the king settled on the branch next to his child, Thranduil took in the tranquil view.
“Ah,” Thranduil said in understanding. “I can see why you like it here so much, ion-nin.”
The pleased smile on Legolas’ face deepened and he jumped into pointing out the hidden places of interest so his father could see. “There is a game trail over there and sometimes snow deer pass by. I saw a buck a few days ago. Huge! I counted ten points in his antlers!”
Thranduil jumped his brows in wonder.
“And in the winter months, when the trees lose their leaves, you can hear the cascades of the river… but the forest growth is too thick to hear it now.”
“Well, I will have to come back to hear it then, won’t I?”
“If you would like,” the prince offered happily.
“I would,” Thranduil plainly validated, and he looked to his son who was beaming as his eyes searched the forest for more key areas to point out to his father.
“You will have to come back in the spring too!”
“Why is that?” Thranduil asked, fully engaged in the easy conversation that was now naturally flowing between them.
“It is my favorite time of the year! All of the flowering trees are in bloom and it makes them look like they are covered in snow… but they smell good.”
Thranduil could not take his eyes away from his son and it was stunning to see the way the child appreciated the nature around them, even at his tender age. All elves had a solid connection with the natural world, but it seemed as though Legolas did not just notice the beauty around him – he loved it on a deeper level.
“There is also a family of squirrels that make their home here,” the elfling said and turned to the trunk of the tree they were sitting in to locate a small hole in the dense wood. “They live there.”
“A home most fitting for tree dwellers!” The king added extra excitement for his son’s sake, which ignited a small giggle from the fair child, and Thranduil could not help the same laughter that left his lips.
“You know,” Thranduil began and he looked directly above them as if seeking out the sight of something that they could not see, “I too have a favored place among the trees, although it has been some time that I have paid it a visit…”
The prince followed his father’s gaze, but could not tell if Thranduil saw something or not. The canopy parted every now and then as the breeze wafted by, allowing a speck of vibrant blue sky to seep through.
The king pulled his attention away from the leafy roof. “Would you like to see it?” he asked his son and the elfling nodded vigorously. “Alright then!” Thranduil said.
The elf-king stood carefully on the branch and without a word, he picked his son up. The prince was placed upon his father’s proud shoulders before Thranduil climbed his way gracefully through the treetops, going higher into the canopy.
“Where are we going, Ada?” Legolas asked. He chanced a glance to the forest floor, almost stunned how high they were, and he tightened his hold on his father.
“Up,” the king said with a mischievous smile, but he did not let the statement linger long. “I too have a marvelous view of our woods, one I am certain you have never seen before.”
They climbed higher and higher into the branches of the tall oak, the king pushing past the thick clustering of leaves that acted as a barricade between the open world and the protection of the forest. At first, the vibrant air around them was too much for the younger elf to take in as the intensity of the sunshine bore down upon them without any hindrance. His eyes were pressed closed and he turned his face away from the glaring atmosphere, but Thranduil continued on and made his way out onto the upper branches. There, the Woodland king stopped and glanced over the sea of treetops.
“What do you think, Ion-nin?” Thranduil asked, but after a moment his query was only answered by a small gasp.
When Legolas adjusted to the new world, he was stunned. The prince had never seen anything like this before in his life and he could not find words to voice his amazement. It seemed as though the very forest became a polar opposite and everything he knew was different. The treetops were aglow in the pure, shimmering radiance that was not held back in the slightest. Despite the shading of the forest during this time of day, the sun was still playful and just as vivid as it would be during the high-noon hours. He was no stranger to sunshine, for every now and then openings in the tall forest trees allowed the golden light to reach the forest floor. But out here, the sky was a desert and there was not a lick of shade to be found. The soft treetops now lay beneath them and rolled along as far as his eyes could see, creating a solid green mass that looked of grand, spacious meadows where the wind played. The air itself felt different too. Here the woodland scents were dull, but the breeze that passed by was clean and fresh as it kissed the elves’ faces and toyed with their hair.
“Legolas?” Thranduil questioned and reached up to unseat the child from his shoulders. Slowly, he placed the stunned elfling on the branch and the father lowered himself into a crouch to keep an eye on his son, whose amazement captivated the youth.
“It is so different,” Legolas finally managed to say in a breathless whisper.
“It is,” Thranduil agreed. “It is so easy to become closed off in our own little bubbles that sometimes we forget how big the world really is. I know you have not seen much of Middle-earth yet, but one day you may find yourself venturing out into it and learning far more about the lands we live in than Mirkwood alone could ever show you.”
Thranduil shifted quietly once more until his crouch became a seat, and he scooted back until he was lounging against the tree trunk. Their conversation died, but the silence that took over was welcoming and Thranduil was at peace watching his son as the child absorbed every sight to be seen. Eventually, Legolas too sat on the branch and studied the unobstructed sky that reflected in his awestruck eyes.
Legolas’ question from earlier that day came to mind and Thranduil nearly felt sick for the way in which he had outright sent his son on his way. It was clear the elfling held no resentment over the matter, but it still bothered the king who found it hard to be a reliable father as of late. His son was so patient, a trait he did not inherit from his father’s side, and Thranduil felt blessed beyond belief that his son was far more forgiving than he could ever hope to be.
“Do you know why the sky is blue, Legolas?” Thranduil asked, trying his best to engage his child with discussions that should have taken place earlier, but were cast off. He watched as the young elf looked deep into the sky and tried to come to some sort of reason in his little mind, but the elfling shook his head.
“I thought, perhaps, it was the Valar’s favorite color.” The child did his best to give a correct answer, but even he knew he was guessing and his slim shoulders shrugged to offer that was his best guess.
Thranduil smiled softly. There was no real evidence as to why the sky was one color versus another, but rather than trying to supply fact, he wanted to captivate his son’s vivid mind. It did not matter if he was right or wrong, what mattered was he was with his precious child and he could now be the father that he should have been all along.
“Ah, but it is!” Thranduil agreed and he too looked to the deep blue sky to peer at the vast nothingness above as his mind raced to weave a story together on the spot. “Sapphires and blue diamonds are among the most sought-after gems in all of Middle-earth, but they are a rare find,” Thranduil began his tale, and the little elfling listened intently to the older elf speak.
“The Valar loved the gems so much that they took most of them for themselves, leaving us with a few scattered underground to be found as treasures.” His deep voice was smooth and easy, letting his words lead the small mind through the imaginary scene that Thranduil created. “Every day, just before the sun rises, they lay their diamonds throughout the sky so they can look upon the sparkling surfaces in pure sunlight. In return, we get a glorious blue heaven that surrounds us.”
The child’s mouth fell open to mirror a look of awe and wonder as his eyes intently focused upwards to try and pick out a single jewel. Yet, even his remarkable sight could not find any. His eyes drank up the vastness splayed out above them as the blue sky continued for what seemed like forever, then met up with the horizon many miles off in the distance.
“They lay them out every day?” Legolas asked.
“Mm-hum.” Thranduil hummed and he nodded his head slightly.
“And they pick them up every night?”
“Every night,” Thranduil repeated. “When you look up into the sky and the sun is setting, you can catch the first few stars peeking out. That is a sign that the gods have begun collecting their diamonds to put them away. By the time the sun has settled down for the night, all the stars are out and you can see the gods beaming with their own happiness as they count each gem and prepare them to be laid out the next day.”
“Why do they pick them up? Why not just leave them?” The question threw Thranduil off who, up until this very moment, had no issues in creating the elaborate story, but he dug through his mind to find some dramatic reason to add to the gloriousness of the tale.
“Uh.. well… they… want to keep them safe!” Thranduil knew that would not quell the seemingly simple question and he looked around for inspiration to spring out at him to continue.
He spied the Lonely Mountain a great distance off, and the legends and tales on its history suddenly came to mind. Thranduil had an idea…. an idea that was so adventurous, so dangerous and so ridiculous, he knew it was perfect for a children’s tale.
“They have to keep them safe from… dragons.”
The little elf’s face darted to stare at his father who just nodded with an aura of truthful grandeur.
“Dragons?” Legolas repeated.
“Oh, yes.” Thranduil looked back to the sky to try and hide the smile that was building behind his facade. “Everyone knows of a dragon’s love for gold… but they have an equal love for rich jewels and the gods’ precious stones would make their treasure hoards an envious desire. There are so few blue gems for them to collect here in these lands. If the Valar do not hide them at night, the dragons will steal them – all of them.”
The story captivated the elfling’s mind, much like Thranduil hoped it would and he smiled in mild amusement as his son gazed up with a new appreciation for the world about him. The treetops became still and silent as the father and son gazed into the heavens, but Legolas’ mind was far from still.
“How many are up there?”
Thranduil almost jerked at the sudden sound of the question. “Pardon?”
“The blue diamonds… how many are up there?” the little elf said and pointed a finger to the sky to try and clarify with gestures.
“Oh heavens, child, far more than you and I could ever hope to count,” the king said with a small chuckle.
Legolas looked back to him, allowing a bright innocent smile to take hold of his features, and the Woodland king could not help but reach out and gather the boy in his arms. He plucked his son off the thin branch and settled the youth in his lap as the king tried his best to make up for the conversation that went astray earlier.
“And do you know the reason as to why the trees are green?” Thranduil asked, but Legolas shook his golden head to the negative. “The gods knew that if everything was dipped in the color blue, they would grow tired of their favorite color quickly – and so would we. They wanted to give us something to look after and be surrounded by so that we could appreciate a natural beauty. They gave us our own gems – gems that surround us and are of the richest greens that could ever be found. The Valar have sapphires, and we have emeralds.”
“The trees are not emeralds, Ada!” the little prince let lose a snort of laughter at the idea of large stones growing in the branches.
“No?” the king acted disappointed in the rejection of his story, but it quickly morphed into a smile. “They are not hard stones that are cut into shapes for glittering beauty, but they are still just as precious. Look at one single leaf – ‘tis a perfect craft and a delicate shape.”
The king found the nearest leaf that was fluttering in the slight breeze and he cupped his hand around the supple foliage to try and prove his point.
“Do you not see it?” he asked his son. “Do you not see the beauty in something so simple?” The little elf reached out to touch the leaf as his father was doing. It was an everyday object, so it was hard for him to find the glittering beauty of a green crystal in the matte-green leaf. Perhaps it was a grown-up thing. There were a lot of matters in this world that seemed to be appreciated by adults, but he nodded anyway.
Thranduil watched as the little fingers traced the vein lines in the leaf that rested in his palm, but the smile on the king’s face started to vanish. There were too few of these moments between them. He could remember an easier time when he himself was a child being led through life by his own father as Oropher taught his son the inner workings of the world. Thranduil recalled the stories told to him and how it was mostly fiction, but to have an explanation tied to anything added value to world – something that seemed to be fading as of late.
“That is why your mother and I named you as you are – Greenleaf.” The comment was almost a whisper, but it caused the prince’s little hand to halt, then softly withdraw.
Legolas almost never heard of his mother since her passing. It was a difficult subject to bring up for both father and son and it was far easier to avoid it altogether. The young prince did not know if he should be listening to this or allow his father to continue with a tale that would surely leave them both in tears, but it felt as though ice formed in his veins and he could not move.
“Greenleaf,” Thranduil said again, this time in thought. “Our precious gem. A miracle gifted to us by the Valar.”
Those few words created a flood of tears in Legolas’ eyes, but he pressed his thin lips together to find stubborn determination not to let them fall. Thranduil could sense a change in his son and he bent low to get a glimpse of his face. When he saw the watery depths of his son’s eyes, the king breathed a slight gasp.
“Legolas?” he asked with genuine concern. “What is the matter?” But as the words left his tongue, he knew what triggered this response. Slowly, the elder elf wrapped his son up in a warm, tight embrace, but his emotional strength fled him and the very contact transferred the same response in the elder elf. Thranduil found it difficult to keep his eyes free of moisture too.
“She loved you, ion-nin.” The king’s whisper was rough, but clear. “More than anything – more than life itself.”
Legolas mutely nodded his head, attesting to the fact that he heard his father and he knew his mother loved him. “I miss her, Ada.” His voice was almost unheard through the tiny whisper, but Thranduil knew what he said.
The king bit back the tears that were growing in his eyes, but at the same time he cursed himself silently. This wasn’t at all how he wanted this evening to go, but rather than offer a distraction, he allowed his son the time and privacy to grieve.
Both Wood-elves remained motionless as they battled their inner sorrow and let the beauty of the woods settle their hearts in its own magical way. Thranduil drew strength and inspiration from the woods around them and when the rough emotions did not taint his voice, the Woodland king began to sing a song to sooth the rest of their worries away.
“A star fell from heaven
It landed in my arms
It ’twas the brightest star I’ve ever seen
And it was you with all your charms
A fallen piece of heaven
You are my little tiny star
Your eyes twinkle so merry and bright
A fallen star is what you are
The heavens must be lonely
Without your joyous shine
But they blessed me with a gift
That I will treasure through the end of time
For a star fell from heaven
It landed in my arms
It ’twas the brightest star I’ve ever seen
And it was you with all your charms
I keep this gift I was given
With it I shall never part
Your love and light will stay with me
Forever in my heart…”
The tune was repeated several times as the simple words and easy melody worked its way through the sorrow that claimed them. When the words were sung to the point where they were beginning to lose their hold, the elf-king forwent language and hummed the tune as he rocked his son. The sunlight was growing dimmer and Thranduil watched the bright orb in the sky sink lower towards the horizon, but Legolas spoke quietly and pulled the king’s attention away.
“The Valar are collecting their sapphires.”
Thranduil looked up to the darkening heavens to note that the first few stars were peppering the sky. He smiled to himself, pleased that the tale he told did what he had hoped and offered the prince a lasting impression that would live in his memoires forever.
“So they are… That means the dragons will be on the prowl soon, as well. I think it is time I take my treasured little leaf home and keep him safe, hum?” Thranduil asked, but the question did not beg for an answer.
The king stood to his feet and lifted his son with him and together they began to descend the tree to head home.