Author's Note:

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: The House of Oropher welcome their heirs.

All of my stories are interconnected, but you do not need to read one to understand the other.

Enjoy!

~S~

Oropher

The bundle in his arms whimpered, kicking against the blankets wrapping about him in its displeasure.

"You do not like restraints, little one." Oropher murmured, loosening the blankets around the new born. As soon as he did, the babe settled back, suckling on the thumb of his hand. Grey eyes fluttered close, face tilting towards his father's chest as it sought out his warmth. The night was bitterly cold, and spring was close but winter had not yet broken its hold over Doriath. The fire burning brightly in the fireplace was not enough to pierce the cold air in the room. Nemireth slumbered deeply, too tired from giving birth to do anything else. He himself could not sleep and had taken his son into his arms, cradling him as he sat beside the fire.

A name. His child needed one. He had gone through many, and yet the ones he had thought if he were to have a boy somehow did not fit the child in his arms.

"What should I call you, youngling?" He murmured softly, his arms cradling his child close to his body. He shrugged on the large blanket till it covered them both. The babe frowned, feeling the sudden heat and struggled weakly in an attempt to push away from his boundaries. Sighing in defeat since this had been going for a while, and Oropher had no wish to awaken his young wife from her much needed rest, he pushed back the blankets just a little to let in the crisp cold air inside. As soon as the babe felt it, he settled again. The babe sighed deeply in contentment before turning his head weakly towards the chilly air. Oropher chuckled to himself.

"If I had been swaddled in warmth for a year, I would be doing the same." He murmured to himself, turning his attention towards the fire.

Fire. It had always been a source of meditation for Oropher. The dancing tendril of crimson, orange and sun-bright yellow beckoned at him, licking up the walls of the fireplace. He returned his attention to his current predicament.

"How about I mark your time of birth?" Oropher murmured to his child, heedless of the fact that his son slumbered in his lap, with no ability to speak or even comprehend his words. The idea had appeal but it did not suit him just yet. No, it needed something more. He considered words of bravery, mulling over each before joining the words together before discarding them.

He heard a pained whimper from his infant and he looked down in alarm before hearing a significant sound and then a satisfied sigh.

"You did not."

But the infant did. The child was now in dire need of a change of diapers. The smell wafted up to him and stifled a chuckle. He will fight anything that would come to his path, do anything his king desired, but he will utterly refuse to change diapers.

The new born sneezed and then whimpered, obviously recognizing the need of new clothes as his father did.

"I wonder if the name 'Thranduil' would suit you," Oropher murmured, rocking his son in his arms. It was certainly a different name, not chosen a traditional way. He would have to discuss it with his wife, but the name was the most appealing of all the others he had thought of.

"You are now in desperate need of changing." He told the infant.

oOo

Thranduil

"I am supposed to be the one asleep." Arodien's quiet words slipped into his ears. He gave a rumble before burying his head in her shoulder, one hand brushing over the head of their new born.

"So sleep," he answered, voice muffled in her shift.

"I can't." She complained. "I am too awake!"

"I thought mothers were tired after giving birth."

"I am tired." She protested. "But I am not sleepy."

"Close your eyes and you will sleep." His princely duties were getting more and more serious of late. He was tired. He was very tired. Already he was nodding off.

The pleasant beginnings of a dream ended when he felt slim fingers poke him sharply in between his ribs.

"What?"

"You rolled over. You were crushing our son."

What sleep was coming to him now disappeared completely as he looked down in between them with newfound alarm. But Legolas slept peacefully in the bundle of his blankets, so fragile and small. Oropher had been so proud when he beheld his grandson. The infant was cradled against his grandfather's chest.

"You hated blankets when you were born." Oropher said with a laugh, covering the new born's sensitive ears from the boom of his laugh. "It was as if you liked being uncovered for the year of his life before your birth."

Oropher had said it without thinking in a full room, which raised a round of merry laughter. Thranduil's fair cheeks flushed crimson at the words, but he could not dampen the smile on his face at the sight of his firstborn and the rare genuine smile over his father's face.

"Calm down," Arodien said, touching the side of his face lightly. "He is fine."

He had chosen the name before Legolas was even born. It was Arodien who told him she carried a son, and she was surprisingly confident about it. Her words came true when she gave birth. Arodien had been very calm throughout the birth, though the pain had been great but her labour ended quickly and easily than most. It had certainly been quicker than his own mother's labour, Oropher had told him. Nemireth's had been long and tedious.

Thranduil gave an ear-splitting yawn, making Arodien laugh lightly at the sight that resembled a lazy lion falling in a snooze. This time, Thranduil wedged a small cushion between his side and his son, not wanting to roll over accidentally in his sleep. They had already prepared a cradle for him, fully dressed and ready to accept its inhabitant but the new parents were not willing to be parted by their precious bundle any time soon.

"Just think how he will be in a few years," Arodien murmured. She was growing sleepy, judging from her voice. "Running around, begging for sweets-"

"Flirting with the Ellyth when he becomes a soldier," Thranduil broke in, yawning again.

"You thought too far ahead." Arodien said, laughing in his ear. It sounded as if the whole world was silent and only their whispered conversation existed with their infant's soft breathing in the background.

"It was a proper thought," Thranduil said. His head was growing heavy.

"If he has your looks then I will fully agree." As far as Legolas' hair was concerned, he took it after his father. His eyes came from his mother. The rest was left to time to shape and accentuate.

"I will leave you to beat off the maidens with a stick."

Arodien did not answer. She had fallen asleep, one hand buried in Thranduil's hair and the other resting on her son's head. Thranduil fell asleep soon after.

oOo

Legolas

He could not stop smiling.

This was no mischievous smile that often got him into trouble even when he had no diabolical plans in his mind. This was a genuine smile that threatened to expose all of his teeth to the world. This smile earned him thumps over his back as Ellyn flocked about him, congratulating him. Laughter rocked the parlour where they were gathered, having been kicked out of the study because it disturbed the sleep of the very tired mother. As night drew on, more and more Elves sought their leave until the proud father with his own father and grandfather were left in the empty room, some evidences of the merrymaking still visible.

The infant slept peacefully, his skin now purely white after the irritated redness from his birth disappeared. The baby hair was soft to the touch, purely silver, with not an ounce of gold that came from his paternal line. He opened his eyes briefly as he struggled to change position before falling asleep, but not before they all noted that his eyes resembled his mother's than his father's.

"Utter disappointment," Thranduil said looking over his son's shoulder. Thranduil's words were tender, and showed anything but disappointment.

"Very," Legolas agreed. All three of them were grinning.

"He could have carried our traits." Oropher complained with the laughter in his voice evident enough to remove the sting of his words. Oropher, Thranduil and Legolas were remarkably similar, the line of lineage strikingly visible in them.

"I suppose it is my fault." Thranduil said. "I married a Sinda after all. It gave Legolas here some ideas to go a bit more diverse." Never mind the fact that it had been Legolas' parents who had suggested the match. Thranduil grabbed the flesh part of his son's ear and gave it a tug. Legolas gave a soft yelp and reached up to release himself. Oropher, on the other hand, smacked both of them over the tops of their heads.

"Don't either of you dare to awaken my great grandson," the Elf warned. Thranduil and Legolas looked decidedly shamefaced.

"Did you think of a name?" Oropher asked his grandson.

"Nimdir, son of Legolas."

"Even in his name he does not follow his paternal line." Thranduil said, winking at his father.

"Let us just hope that he follows on our personalities." Oropher said.

"Personalities?" Legolas asked, looking up quizzically. Oropher smirked.

"Oh, I just hoped he behaves the same way you and your father behaved in your youth just so that you know what it feels like."

Legolas remembered some of the things and shuddered. Their conversation came to an end when they heard something between them. Then a smell wafted up to them and Legolas wrinkled his nose as they looked down at their newest member that could only be the culprit among the four of them. Oropher and Thranduil gave a burst of laughter which they immediately tried to stifle for the sake of the new born. Oropher gave his grandson a friendly clap over the shoulder.

"Don't worry," Oropher said, chuckling. "Your father did the same."

The thought of Thranduil in swaddles with such a problem immediately brought a smile on Legolas' face.

"Really? What did you do?"

"I gave him to his maid. But you, my son, will have to do it on your own. Among the Teleri, the Ellyn who gain respect are the ones who put a hand in to help care for their young in such things. We will leave you to it."

Legolas paled and looked down at his son and then looked up at his father and grandfather. Both of them ignored him as they chatted away, waving a cursory hand of farewell to him before closing the door behind them. Legolas was left in a room adjoined to the bedroom where his wife slept and no one else to help him.

"Help," he whispered. Another significant noise passed in the empty room and Nimdir gave a soft sigh of contentment.

~S~

Author's Note:

Just something light to organize my mind a bit. I have one chapter of each story in the works, with two more one-shots and a continuation of Children of Middle-Earth. I think at the moment I am going to either focus on my older stories or my one-shots first, since my charger died and I am stranded to write anything larger than a one-shot.

Thanks all for your fav and follows for both my stories and myself. It makes me happy to see you guys happy. :)