Inspired by the line in Galadriel's Lament,long years numberless as the wings of trees as well as The Hobbit movies...I was intrigued by how Thranduil and Legolas were portrayed and have been wanting to write about the two of them ever since. The line from the trees refers to the lifespan of elves(In regard to this fic) and the idea the idea that wood elves can hear the trees. A few weeks ago I had an image in my head of Legolas saying goodbye to his father before Thranduil leaves Middle Earth. I have taken some liberties with canon, and I have not read the books in a very long time. Please bear with me if I make a few mistakes.

Galadriel's Lament: .

Let me know what you think with a review?

Legolas felt the the fall moments before his horse went down.

Or perhaps "fall" was the wrong word. Arod did not fall, exactly, but there was a slight mistep, a tightening of muscles and the quick snap of mane in the wind as the stallion threw back his head. In the physical sense there was no act of falling, but Arod's energy dropped alarmingly fast. Arod was frightened. The horse had walked through the ways to the Paths of the Dead, galloped to war and fought on the desolate dust at the edge of the Black Gate. He had one of the biggest hearts in a horse that Legolas had ever encountered. But he was reluctant to even take another step forward. Dancing on nervous hooves, he shied sidewise, snorting.

"Peace, mellon," Legolas soothed, reaching down to stroke the taunt neck, "I would not be so cruel to make you go in there."

The horse's ears flicked back at the familiar voice of his friend, stopping his nervous movements and halted. Legolas continued to quiet him, glancing with half his attention between his horse's ears.

The forest of Mirkwood stretched out in front of them, a tangled mass of trees and the glinting white of spider webs. Legolas had hoped that after the destruction of the Ring, the darkness that had poisoned his home for so long would abate. It seemed that had not been the case. He was not close enough to hear the trees song, but there was a dark pulse behind his eyes that had not quite formed notes. It was a peculiar kind of darkness, rich and deep and horrifyingly destructive. He had heard it before, of course, the Greenwood had been Mirkwood for quite some time, but Legolas had never gotten used to it.

He had not wanted to come back, at first. He had only been gone a year or so, barely a blink in the lifetime of an elf as old as his father. When he had accepted the quest it was partly because he knew that the world depended on it and the elves had to do their part, and partly because he had known his father would not miss him.

But Legolas could not have anticipated the darkness of the world, or quite how wild and vengeful that evil had become. He could not have pictured that he would fight outside the Black Gates, with it's choking dust and orcs and the Eye staring him down. He had not expected to see Estel, that human child he had befriended so many years ago, become Elessar, and he had certainly not expected to befriend a dwarf.

Gimli had offered to come with him to Mirkwood, but Legolas had refused. He knew that they would travel together, he and his dwarven friend-they had made a promise-but this was something he had to do by himself. He would travel Lothlorien, the Glittering Caves, and yes, the forests of his home again. But this, this first visit, he had to do alone.

Arod shifted uneasily under him, sensing Legolas's tension. Sighing, the elf patted his horse's shoulder and slipped off his back. "Rest," he said gently, curling his fingers briefly into silky mane, "I will call you when I have need." Arod would not go far, and if Legolas tried he probably could have convinced him to enter the forest, but it would be cruel to his friend, to be trapped in twisted trees so tall and dark they blocked out the sun.

The horse pressed his nose briefly to Legolas's cheek, snorting softly. The elf understood. Reaching up, he held the animal close to him for a moment. "Hannon le," he whispered, "and of course I will come back for you. I will not leave as your previous master did, mellon."

Arod pulled away and bobbed his head as if agreeing, before kicking up his back hooves in a little buck and galloping away.

Legolas watched him go until the horse was only a small dot on the horizon, before turning back to the tangled forest in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he started towards his home.

The tree's song cut through him like a knife.

Legolas had not taken two steps into the forest before the sharp, spiking note reached him. It was a haunting keen, lamenting the loss of life and the darkness of the world. Beneath all of the grief, though, there was a stirring anger and destruction so strong that it roared out in a loud swell, driving Legolas to his knees.

The trees were bending and creaking around him, the chorus of their songs echoing in his mind. They said, fear, fear, darkness, fear...

Pressing his palms against his eyes, Legolas fought to control his suddenly ragged breathing. He had never imagined that the rings darkness would taint this place so much. It was more twisted than Fangorn, with evil bleeding into the roots and seeping into the soil, infecting, spreading, poisoning...

How had the Greenwood of his child hood, full of sunlight and green leaf trees that spoke only distantly of darkness and bathed in laughter? Where was the comfort and security he had once found in this place? Rivendell had seemed like more of a home to him, with it's open halls and waterfalls seamlessly incorporated with the architecture. Lothlorien's forests had been full of starlight, dazzling and serene. But Mirkwood? Greenwood? What was left of Greenwood now, but broken trees and haunting shadows, doubt and fear? The forest had been touched so deeply by darkness that even the destruction of the Ring would not be enough to overcome it.

"Legolas?"

Legolas jerked his head up, startled at the unexpected sound of his name, just at the borders of the forest. He knew that the majority of the elves had already sailed, after a brief correspondence with Lord Elrond and his father before deciding to venture back home. He had expected to find a few sentries guarding Mirkwod(the king would never leave his borders completely unprotected, even if darkness had been defeated) but not so close to the edge, and it was not the voice of a guard...

Through eyes half blurred with tears he saw his father. Thranduil wore a tunic and silken blue robes. His crown still rested on his head. He did not care a sword or scepter, but only two knives strapped to a belt at his waist. Legoals could not see his expression, but he was so surprised all he managed was, "Ada?"

"I have been expecting you for a few days," his father said. The same cool, remote voice that Legolas remembered. His trained ears could pick out the softening of the words, the affection behind the statement.

"Ada," It was all Legolas could say. He had not seen his father over a year, but the change was noticeable. Thranduil's bright light was fading with Mirkwood's, and he knew that his father had heard the sea's call and would sail. He had been waiting for his son to return.

Thranduil took a step towards him.

Legolas had always felt small in his father's presence. It was hard not to, when your father was the King. Because Thranduil was his king as well as his father, there had always been a sense of duty, a sense of I expected more from you, a cold detachment that had set them apart.

But then there had been other moments. Moments spent climbing trees together, Thranduil showing him which branches to grab and when to trust the tree to catch him. Moments that Legolas could not quite recall, hazy memories of archery and reading and the tickle of his Ada's hair against his cheek.

Those memories come to him now, with Thranduil standing so close, bending over him-

His father lifted him up with a gentleness Legolas had not experienced in years, the hands slipping under his elbows and drawing him into a standing position.

Thranduil looked at him for a long moment, eyes wide and open, lips slightly parted, as if he was almost surprised. There was a haggard longing and aching pain in his expression that Legolas could not quite place. Grief? Fear? Guilt? All three? He had always prided himself in his ability to read his father's moods, but now, overcome with his own emotions, the tree's songs twining through his mind and weighing him down so he felt the pull in his bones, he could not place it.

"Oh, my son," Thranduil whispered, and pulled him into an embrace. "ion nin..."

At first Legolas stiffened, surprised by the sudden contact, but the feeling brought back pleasant memories, stilled the wild darkness consuming his thoughts, and he relaxed. There was something fundamentally right and utterly unique about a father's embrace. Legolas melted into it, wrapped his arms around his Ada's waist and held him tightly.

Thanduil was whispering something in his ear, a jumbled mess of the grey tongue that was too laced through with emotion and tears for Legolas to understand. But Legolas was whispering back, he wasn't even sure himself what he was saying, only that it did not really matter. None of it mattered, because Thranduil brought back that want, that ache, soothed the darkness was a balm, because his father meant home.

He had wandered Middle Earth, fought in wars of men, slain great beasts, climbed mountains, carried hobbits through dark underground caves. He had been among friends-Aragorn, Gandalf-and made new ones, Gimli, but he had never felt this sense of security. He had not even realized he'd been longing for it until this moment.

Thranduil's tunic was soft and warm and comforting and smelled of clean air, water and wine from the cellars. It was familiar, and Legolas clung to it, buried his face in his father's should and clenched his eyes shut tight. Tight against the twisted trees, and the darkness of the forest floor, blocking out the reality that their home had been damaged beyond repair. It was only him, and his father. Not his king. His father.

Finally, Thranduil gently pulled away. He took a long deep, breath, and it was only when Legolas registered a sense of peace about his father's expression did he say, "Ada, the trees..." He had meant the word to be a whisper, but to his embarrassment it came out as more of a sob.

Thranduil nodded. "You have heard their song?"

Legolas wanted to ask what happened, wanted his father to give him the answer, but that was ridiculous. They both knew the answer. They both understood. There was no reason at all for clarification. "I-I never anticipated that it would-"

"I know." Thranduil reached up and cupped his son's face, and Legolas had not even realized he'd been crying until his father wiped away the tears. "I know, Legolas. But, listen. There is more to the song that only darkness. Listen, and tell me what you hear."

"Ada-"

"Listen."

So Legolas listened. He closed his eyes and reached out with his whole being. The song came to him immediately. Although he had been prepared this time, the staggering roar was still startling. He gasped, and Thranduil gripped his shoulder. "Listen."

Legolas went deeper, picking out the difference in note and tone and pitch, sifting through the different trees melodies. Then he caught it, a faint trill, a delicate switch-

Intertwined with the keening grief, there was the softest call of hope. The smallest spark of light in a wild storm of corruption.

"Ah, you hear it," Thranduil said as Legolas side and relaxed slightly. His hold on the song, the bright aspect faded quickly as his father spoke, and Legolas lost it in a lapse of concentration. Opening his eyes, he met his father's gaze.

"Hope," he said.

Thranduil nodded, "Hope. Middle Earth is not lost, ion nin. Mirkwood is not lost."

Legolas hated the words, but he had to say them, "but it will never be Greenwood again."

His father gave him one of his piercing looks. "Legolas, nothing in the world will ever go back to the way it was. You are not the same as you were when our home was Greenwood. Would you go back to that?"

Legolas thought of his hatred for dwarves, his reckless adventures with Aragorn when his human friend had dragged him into trouble. He did have fond memories from that time, but he was proud of who he was today, proud of what he had accomplished on the quest to destroy the ring. He shook his head.

"I thought not," Thranduil said, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. "Now, come, Legolas." Without waiting for a response he turned on his heel and slid between the shadows, weaving his way back to the palace.

Sighing, Legolas followed in his father's footsteps, holding the tree's songs in his mind as he went.