This is JastaElf's birthday present. Here is your story of young Legolas
and his Adar! Bright blessings on you, mellon-nin!
Thank you to al for beta-ing this chapter and keeping commas and participles in line!
Through the Eyes of a Child
Prologue
A pair of bright blue eyes peered around the door, which was cracked open just enough for a small body to fit through. His quarry was unaware of his presence so the child slipped silently into the room, bare feet cushioned by the thick dark blue carpet that covered the chill grey stone floor, it's intricate pattern of twining vines and flowers dim in the early morning light. He crept to the foot of the bed and knelt swiftly, hands clapping over his grinning mouth when giggles threatened to erupt.
The figure lying on the bed smiled slightly, a mere twitch of the lips. He didn't move, pretending to be lost in the dreams of his people as the blonde head popped up over the carved footboard. Quiet giggles drifted on the cool air, and the 'dreamer' was hard pressed to keep his face composed in lines of feigned slumber.
The child's head disappeared once more. Small, half-stifled bubbles of mirth rose from the end of the bed where he crouched. He climbed slowly onto the footboard, balancing precariously at first, gripping the wood with his fingers and toes. A moment later he gave what he thought was a fierce, feral warrior's cry, launching himself at the 'dreamer'.
But strong hands shot out, catching the lithe body in midair and held the squirming child over his head.
"What are you doing, tithen emlin?" Thranduil asked the bright-eyed imp in his hands.
The child giggled in delight and stiffly held his arms out at his sides, his legs thrust out behind him in a graceful curve.
"I am a bird, Ada! A bird flying in the sky!" he cried, then giggled again as he tried to whistle like a bird and failed as his laughter kept interfering with what his lips needed to be doing.
Thranduil chuckled and plopped him down onto the bed beside him, the mattress bouncing slightly under his weight.
"You make a fine bird, little one," he said, brushing a stray strand of pale hair from his son's face. "A very fine bird indeed."
Legolas smiled at his father, then snuggled closer, his head tucked against the broad shoulder, fingers twining in the long silky dark gold locks. He breathed in his father's familiar scent, eyes closing in contentment.
The King of Mirkwood gently stroked the child's hair, which was hanging down his back in a long intricate braid. He noted how disheveled it felt and smiled.
"Little Greenleaf, did you brush your hair this morning?"
Legolas' head came up as he shifted from his side to his stomach. Blue eyes sparkled beneath dark brows.
"Nay, Adar," he admitted. "I had no time. I had to go and remind Bofcabed and Laingur that today is the day!" He lisped with a grin, thumping his feet on the bed in excitement.
"Ah, I see. You were afraid that our horses would forget. Hmm. I guess it is a good thing you remembered."
"I would never forget, Ada. Never."
Thranduil smiled down at him, seeing the solemn expression in his eyes.
"I would never forget either," he reassured, placing his hand on top of the blonde head.
"Then let's go!" Legolas jumped up, bouncing excitedly on the bed and giggling in delight.
Thranduil shook his head and sat up.
"I do not believe that I am appropriately attired for our venture," he said. "I do not know what everyone would think seeing their King ride forth in his sleeping shirt. Or their prince looking as if birds nested in his hair."
Legolas stopped jumping and flung himself into his father's arms.
"I love you, Ada," he said kissing the smooth cheek and curling against his father's broad chest, fingers twining in the dark gold hair once more, caressing the soft strands between his thumb and forefinger.
Thranduil held him, remembering how from earliest babyhood this child had stroked and fondled hair, whether it was his own or the person he was with. He recalled watching him nurse at his mother's breast, fingers working in her long pale hair, blue eyes intent on her face as she smiled down at him with such joy.
The King sighed, brows furrowed as he closed his eyes against the pain in his heart. It had been almost a year now since his beloved Luthiel had died, and though the pain was not as great, he knew that it would never entirely leave him. His arms tightened about his son as he pressed his face against the top of the child's head.
"Are you ready to go, Ada?" Legolas asked without breaking the embrace.
Thranduil chuckled and kissed him.
"First I must dress, and we must do something with that hair of yours. Go bring me the brush."
Legolas sighed, slid to the edge of the great bed, and dropped to the floor. Thranduil suppressed a smile as the child trudged across the room, scuffing his feet on the carpet.
"The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can leave, Little Greenleaf," he called softly as his son reluctantly picked up the ornate silver hairbrush. Thranduil could see the frown on the boy's face as he looked down at it in disgust.
"But it hurts when it is brushed," the child complained as he crossed the room once more.
"If you would brush it more often then it wouldn't get so tangled."
Legolas sighed as he handed his father the brush and climbed back up onto the bed. He seated himself in front of his father, facing away from him shoulders slumped.
Thranduil did smile then, and began to unbraid the long hair. He ran his fingers through it to loosen the long braid, clumsily plaited by childish fingers the night before. It was very tangled and he found bits of twigs and leaves buried in the ashen gold. He shook his head as he pulled them out gently, hearing the soft muttering sounds Legolas was making. Vanimelda his nurse would not be pleased if she could see this. Obviously the little imp had managed to evade his nurse the night before, as this tangled braid and collection of flora attested to. He worked the brush through the fine strands; easing out snarls and tangles as he went. At last it was smooth and shining, spilling down his back. The King laid aside the heavy brush and began to deftly make the high ponytail, and twist it into a topknot.
"There you are, tithen emlin. Go and fetch your bow and arrows while I get dressed. I will meet you in the Hall."
The child hopped off the bed chirping happily, and flew across the room.
"I am very excited, Ada!" he called from the wide open door.
"I am as well," Thranduil smiled, standing and carrying the brush to the table. "Now go. I will join you very soon. A Warrior must be ready when the King arrives."
"I will be, Ada!" Legolas grinned and turned, running down the corridor as fast as his bare feet would take him.
Thranduil went back to the bed and picked up the small pile of leaves and twigs he had taken from the child's hair. He held them in his hand, smiling down at them before moving to place them on the table by the hairbrush.
He dressed swiftly in greens and browns, the forest colors of his people. Then efficiently fixed his own hair, running the brush through the golden locks and swiftly re-plaiting the braids that marked him as a Warrior of Mirkwood. He pulled on sturdy leather boots and grabbed up a grey cloak.
Today was indeed the day. He had promised Legolas that they would ride out together, just the two of them, and spend the entire day in each other's company. He was also looking forward to it. He did not know what this day might bring; infinite possibilities lay before them. A smile tugged at his lips as he strode down the hall.
"I too, am very excited, little Greenleaf," he said quietly, and then hastened toward the Hall to meet his son. "Very excited indeed."
Thank you to al for beta-ing this chapter and keeping commas and participles in line!
Through the Eyes of a Child
Prologue
A pair of bright blue eyes peered around the door, which was cracked open just enough for a small body to fit through. His quarry was unaware of his presence so the child slipped silently into the room, bare feet cushioned by the thick dark blue carpet that covered the chill grey stone floor, it's intricate pattern of twining vines and flowers dim in the early morning light. He crept to the foot of the bed and knelt swiftly, hands clapping over his grinning mouth when giggles threatened to erupt.
The figure lying on the bed smiled slightly, a mere twitch of the lips. He didn't move, pretending to be lost in the dreams of his people as the blonde head popped up over the carved footboard. Quiet giggles drifted on the cool air, and the 'dreamer' was hard pressed to keep his face composed in lines of feigned slumber.
The child's head disappeared once more. Small, half-stifled bubbles of mirth rose from the end of the bed where he crouched. He climbed slowly onto the footboard, balancing precariously at first, gripping the wood with his fingers and toes. A moment later he gave what he thought was a fierce, feral warrior's cry, launching himself at the 'dreamer'.
But strong hands shot out, catching the lithe body in midair and held the squirming child over his head.
"What are you doing, tithen emlin?" Thranduil asked the bright-eyed imp in his hands.
The child giggled in delight and stiffly held his arms out at his sides, his legs thrust out behind him in a graceful curve.
"I am a bird, Ada! A bird flying in the sky!" he cried, then giggled again as he tried to whistle like a bird and failed as his laughter kept interfering with what his lips needed to be doing.
Thranduil chuckled and plopped him down onto the bed beside him, the mattress bouncing slightly under his weight.
"You make a fine bird, little one," he said, brushing a stray strand of pale hair from his son's face. "A very fine bird indeed."
Legolas smiled at his father, then snuggled closer, his head tucked against the broad shoulder, fingers twining in the long silky dark gold locks. He breathed in his father's familiar scent, eyes closing in contentment.
The King of Mirkwood gently stroked the child's hair, which was hanging down his back in a long intricate braid. He noted how disheveled it felt and smiled.
"Little Greenleaf, did you brush your hair this morning?"
Legolas' head came up as he shifted from his side to his stomach. Blue eyes sparkled beneath dark brows.
"Nay, Adar," he admitted. "I had no time. I had to go and remind Bofcabed and Laingur that today is the day!" He lisped with a grin, thumping his feet on the bed in excitement.
"Ah, I see. You were afraid that our horses would forget. Hmm. I guess it is a good thing you remembered."
"I would never forget, Ada. Never."
Thranduil smiled down at him, seeing the solemn expression in his eyes.
"I would never forget either," he reassured, placing his hand on top of the blonde head.
"Then let's go!" Legolas jumped up, bouncing excitedly on the bed and giggling in delight.
Thranduil shook his head and sat up.
"I do not believe that I am appropriately attired for our venture," he said. "I do not know what everyone would think seeing their King ride forth in his sleeping shirt. Or their prince looking as if birds nested in his hair."
Legolas stopped jumping and flung himself into his father's arms.
"I love you, Ada," he said kissing the smooth cheek and curling against his father's broad chest, fingers twining in the dark gold hair once more, caressing the soft strands between his thumb and forefinger.
Thranduil held him, remembering how from earliest babyhood this child had stroked and fondled hair, whether it was his own or the person he was with. He recalled watching him nurse at his mother's breast, fingers working in her long pale hair, blue eyes intent on her face as she smiled down at him with such joy.
The King sighed, brows furrowed as he closed his eyes against the pain in his heart. It had been almost a year now since his beloved Luthiel had died, and though the pain was not as great, he knew that it would never entirely leave him. His arms tightened about his son as he pressed his face against the top of the child's head.
"Are you ready to go, Ada?" Legolas asked without breaking the embrace.
Thranduil chuckled and kissed him.
"First I must dress, and we must do something with that hair of yours. Go bring me the brush."
Legolas sighed, slid to the edge of the great bed, and dropped to the floor. Thranduil suppressed a smile as the child trudged across the room, scuffing his feet on the carpet.
"The sooner we get it done, the sooner we can leave, Little Greenleaf," he called softly as his son reluctantly picked up the ornate silver hairbrush. Thranduil could see the frown on the boy's face as he looked down at it in disgust.
"But it hurts when it is brushed," the child complained as he crossed the room once more.
"If you would brush it more often then it wouldn't get so tangled."
Legolas sighed as he handed his father the brush and climbed back up onto the bed. He seated himself in front of his father, facing away from him shoulders slumped.
Thranduil did smile then, and began to unbraid the long hair. He ran his fingers through it to loosen the long braid, clumsily plaited by childish fingers the night before. It was very tangled and he found bits of twigs and leaves buried in the ashen gold. He shook his head as he pulled them out gently, hearing the soft muttering sounds Legolas was making. Vanimelda his nurse would not be pleased if she could see this. Obviously the little imp had managed to evade his nurse the night before, as this tangled braid and collection of flora attested to. He worked the brush through the fine strands; easing out snarls and tangles as he went. At last it was smooth and shining, spilling down his back. The King laid aside the heavy brush and began to deftly make the high ponytail, and twist it into a topknot.
"There you are, tithen emlin. Go and fetch your bow and arrows while I get dressed. I will meet you in the Hall."
The child hopped off the bed chirping happily, and flew across the room.
"I am very excited, Ada!" he called from the wide open door.
"I am as well," Thranduil smiled, standing and carrying the brush to the table. "Now go. I will join you very soon. A Warrior must be ready when the King arrives."
"I will be, Ada!" Legolas grinned and turned, running down the corridor as fast as his bare feet would take him.
Thranduil went back to the bed and picked up the small pile of leaves and twigs he had taken from the child's hair. He held them in his hand, smiling down at them before moving to place them on the table by the hairbrush.
He dressed swiftly in greens and browns, the forest colors of his people. Then efficiently fixed his own hair, running the brush through the golden locks and swiftly re-plaiting the braids that marked him as a Warrior of Mirkwood. He pulled on sturdy leather boots and grabbed up a grey cloak.
Today was indeed the day. He had promised Legolas that they would ride out together, just the two of them, and spend the entire day in each other's company. He was also looking forward to it. He did not know what this day might bring; infinite possibilities lay before them. A smile tugged at his lips as he strode down the hall.
"I too, am very excited, little Greenleaf," he said quietly, and then hastened toward the Hall to meet his son. "Very excited indeed."