Of Boys and Books
Word Count: 1,724
Rating: K+/PG... Should I warn that it's probably too sweet?
Disclaimer: Normally I'm wittier, but... I got nothing. I would say I own nothing, but that's not true. I created the original characters that are driving the plot, so... I guess I own something.
Summary: Pre-fellowship. Legolas consoles a young elf and in the process finds a way to start mending his own relationship with his father.
Author's Note: When I was compiling chapter fifteen of Storms in Middle Earth, I included a short flashback with Legolas and young Idhrenion. That one reminded me how adorable a child Idhrenion was, and I said I was tempted to do a whole story with cute/sweet young Idhrenion. That isn't quite what I did, since this is Legolas' story, but I did give into the temptation.

Part of this is that flashback, edited and extended, but the rest is new.

And yes, I know that they are elves and the title doesn't work, but I liked the alliteration, so I kept it.

Of Boys and Books

Legolas leaned back against the wall, almost regretting his choice to stay late with his friends instead of returning to his own room. He had enjoyed their evening together, the laughter lasting late into the night, but now that everyone else had fallen asleep and he was still awake, he no longer felt the same contentment as before. Sérëdhiel had fallen asleep on Varyar's shoulder, and Idhrenion had taken a spot down by their feet long ago, and all Legolas could think of when he looked at them was his own envy. They were so close, the three of them, and Sérëdhiel was so at peace, not at all troubled but serene like her name. She could sleep anywhere so long as Varyar was there—he made her feel safe—and Idhrenion, too, trusted his brother to protect him.

The younger two knew no nightmares. They did not fear sleep for the memories that it brought. Varyar shifted in his sleep, not quite dislodging his sister, though he came close. He was troubled by something, but then Firyavaryar almost always was, even if he did not speak of it.

Was it dreams of his mother's death that had come to Varyar tonight? Dreams of his own mother kept Legolas from wanting to sleep. He did not want to remember her, not the way she'd died, and that was all he ever seemed to see when he saw his mother. Why could he not remember her as she was in life, not in death?

"I miss my mother."

"You know what I do when I miss Nana or Ada?" Idhrenion asked, and Legolas frowned, having thought the youngest elfling was awake. He would not have said anything if he thought anyone was awake. When he'd realized that Varyar had followed Sérëdhiel into sleep, he'd thought he'd heard Idhrenion snoring as loud as a dwarf.

"No, I don't," Legolas said, smiling at him, for a sleepy young Idhrenion was surprisingly endearing, and he found himself wanting to take the younger elf in his lap and let him sit there like Varyar often did. "What do you do?"

"I crawl into Varyar's lap and hold onto him. Or I lean against Sérëdhiel and listen to her sing. When I'm close to them, I don't feel so alone. I don't feel as sad." Idhrenion looked up at Legolas. "You should go to your father and have him hold you. You won't be as alone."

Legolas sighed. "It is not so simple for me. Or my father. He is a king."

Idhrenion snorted, about as impressed by that as Varyar was. "I think you are scared."

"I am not."

"Since you are scared to ask your father, you will have to use friends instead," Idhrenion said. He pushed himself up, crawling into Legolas' lap. "Varyar is more comfortable, but you will do."

"Will I now?"

"I do not miss Ada or Nana as much. Do you still miss your mother?"

That ache was still there, but Legolas was glad that he was not alone.

"Read," Idhrenion ordered, placing the book in Legolas' lap.

He frowned down at it and looked at the other elfling. "Did Beridhren send you with this book? I already did my lessons for today. I am not doing more."

Idhrenion shook his head. "Beridhren did not send me. He is too busy teaching Varyar and Sérëdhiel, and I do not want to be alone. Read? Please?"

Legolas sighed. He had other things that he knew he should be doing—he had finished the assignments his tutor had assigned him, and he had already done his lessons with Ehtyarion earlier—though he had to wonder why he had such a poor archer as a teacher for archery—but he had duties as the prince that he should have been seeing to, and if Varyar wasn't available for playing or sparring, then he should do them, not read some stuffy tome to his younger brother.

He picked up the book and frowned. "Haven't you already read this book several times? I thought Varyar said you knew all the words already."

"He does," Idhrenion agreed. "He has read them to me many times."

"Then why do you want to hear them? You must know them as well, and I do not see why you would want to read what you already know," Legolas said, about to leave the younger elfling alone with the book. He knew Idhrenion could read on his own, and if he wanted a book read that he should already know, then he could do that on his own.

"When Varyar reads to me again, I can remember Ada," Idhrenion whispered, and Legolas thought the young elfling might cry. When he looked up, there was a sheen in his eyes. "I hear Nana in Sérëdhiel's songs. I am afraid that I will forget them."

Legolas could not turn away from that honest admission. "Well, then, let us read this book."

Idhrenion gave him a bright smile, crawling into his friend's lap. Legolas did not know how Varyar managed to sit like this as often as he did—Idhrenion was too big for this—but he made himself as comfortable as he could be before wrapping his arm around the younger elf and opened the book. "In the first part of the second age there was a time when the sun shone overbright in the skies..."

"And then he said, 'the truth is that we can never be friends because you snore like a dwarf,'" Legolas said, looking down at Idhrenion. Yes, the elfling was indeed asleep this time. Legolas set the book to the side and frowned down at the burden in his lap. He didn't know how he could move now, but his leg had gone to sleep under him and he rather thought he needed to another physical need as well—it did not help to have Idhrenion sitting on him for that.

"Oh, that is so adorable."

"The prince or the brother?" Varyar asked, a bit of suspicion in his voice as he frowned at his sister. Sérëdhiel ignored him and walked over to pick up the book that Legolas had been reading before he realized that Idhrenion was asleep. She cradled the book in her arms with a sad smile.

"I am not adorable," Legolas muttered. He glanced down at Idhrenion. "He almost is, but the snoring like a dwarf—are we sure he is an elf? Elves don't snore."

"Idhrenion does," Firyavaryar said, leaning down to lift his brother up out of Legolas' lap.

"Thank you for watching him, gwador," Sérëdhiel said, giving Legolas a quick kiss on the forehead. "We told Beridhren that our lessons shouldn't be at the same time, but he was unwilling to understand why."

"I do," Legolas said, knowing how hard it was for any of them—other than Varyar—to be alone for long periods of time. "I was glad of his company, Sérëdhiel. It was no trouble."

Firyavaryar glanced at him. "With Idhrenion?"

"Yes," Legolas insisted. He touched his friend's arm. "You are good to him, reading to him like you do. He values it highly, as he does Sérëdhiel's singing."

"I cannot sing, so it is nothing to me that he does not like my singing," Varyar said. He looked down at his brother. "He is heavier every time I do this."

"Go," Legolas urged, pushing his friend down the hall. "Put him to bed. I will see you in the morning—we have archery lessons first thing."

He left them, turning in the other direction. He still envied that family, all their closeness, and he even felt jealous of little Idhrenion. Legolas knew how much Varyar did for him, and Sérëdhiel, too, and that made him wish that he had as devoted companions as they did.

He stopped in his room to clean up and prepare himself, still uncertain of his decision. Idhrenion made it all seem simple, but the he was still young, and to the young all things were simple. With a last bit of water splashed on his face, he drew in a breath and told himself he would at least attempt it.

If Idhrenion was not afraid to ask something of a prince, why should a prince be so afraid to ask anything of the king?

He left his room, knowing that the hall was not as empty as it appeared—guards were here somewhere—and so he knew he would be seen on his way to his father's rooms, but no one stopped him as he went along a once familiar path. This had been so much easier when his mother was alive to take him into the room, the door always opening before he arrived, and she would sweep him into the room with a smile and laughter.

The door did not open before his hand reached it, and he almost turned away before he opened it, but he did not allow himself to stop.

His father looked up as he pushed the door open, frowning a bit as he set aside a book Legolas recognized as his mother's favorite. "Ada?"

"Yes, ion-nín," his father said, rising. "Is something wrong?"

Legolas did not know how long it had been since he had come here, but it must have been a long time if he had only come when something was wrong. He shook his head. "No, Ada. Nothing is wrong. I was just... I..."

"Legolas?"

"I did not want to be alone," Legolas admitted, leaning back against the door and almost jumping when it closed shut behind him.

Thranduil smiled, crossing over to touch his son's shoulders. "You are not alone. Seldom these days are you without your friends."

Legolas' attempt to explain how that was different died in his throat, and all he managed to do was wrap his arms around his father, unable to look up at him if there might be displeasure on his face. "Will you read to me? Please? I know I am too old for such a thing now—"

"Valar willing, you will never be too old for it, ion-nín, for there are some things that fathers would never want to stop doing for their children."

"Even if they are kings?"

"Yes, Legolas. Even if they are kings."