Summary: For all the Legolas angst readers who dislike the evil Thranduil stories…

Authors Note: This is one of the first stories I ever wrote for LOTR fanfiction, written for my own enjoyment. It is just a sappy little excerpt for those opposed to evil Thranduil. I hope you enjoy! :)

Punishment

The King paced back and forth in front of the three young warriors who were standing wearily in a straight line in the throne room. The one in charge had just reported a rather dreadful loss, and the King was very upset. He began to ask questions about the battle decisions and tactical maneuvers. Most of the time the young captain answered, but a few times his warriors chimed in with their thoughts.

To the young captain, who happened to be the King's only son and barely out of childhood, the King kept sending him disapproving looks. The young captain began to feel worried and stressed. He had gone over the battle a million times in his head, trying to figure out what went wrong and what he could have done differently. He still did not know what had gone so wrong to cause so many injuries, so he did not know why the King would be sending him these looks. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and he risked a quick swipe at the evidence when his father's back was turned, quickly returning his hand to his side as he continued to stand respectfully.

His father finally turned back to face the three warriors, looking at each of them. "I want you to alert the Commander of this situation and tell him to prepare for further battle immediately. I also want another patrol sent out this afternoon."

The young captain and the two warriors with him all bowed. "Yes, Hir nin," answered the blonde captain. "I will see to it immediately." Thinking that they were dismissed, he bowed, then turned and began to lead the way out of the throne room.

"Legolas!" a stern voice stopped him in his tracks, and a slight shudder passed through the young elf at the sound of stark disapproval that he imagined he heard in the King's voice.

He turned back to face his father, as the other warriors did likewise, nervous that they had broken some type of protocol. The King, Thranduil, caught the eyes of Legolas' second, Imaldeus. "You will deliver the message, Imaldeus, if you would be so kind." He turned back to Legolas, ignoring the other soldiers' suddenly worried looks. "Legolas, you will come with me. Now!" With that, he swept out of the room in a swirl of robes, obviously expecting his son to immediately follow after him, which he did after a confused look at the other two warriors. He tried to manage a slight smile of reassurance as he saw the frantic worry on their faces.

"It will be fine," he whispered as he hurried after his father.

He caught up to his father near the door to his chambers. The King slowed long enough to grab hold of his son's arm and lead him the rest of the way towards the room. Legolas tried to ignore the sense of foreboding that he had committed some horrible crime and was going to be severely punished, choosing instead to focus on the comforting touch of his father's hand on his arm for the little time he might have left to enjoy it.

When they got to the King's chambers, he was preemptively ushered in as Thranduil slammed the great doors closed behind him. He turned towards his son, giving him the same look he had been giving him in the throne room. Legolas' heart dropped. He HAD done something wrong. If only he knew what it was! "Hir nin?" he finally stuttered as the King remained silent for a moment, simply looking at him. "Have I done something to displease you?"

Thranduil's eyes flickered with a strange light as he looked at his son. "I am nearly always pleased with you, child. You make me proud many times." Legolas felt a slight sense of relief at these words, but realized that the king had managed to avoid quite answering the question. Thranduil stepped forward then, drawing close enough that his son could smell the unique woodsy smell belonging to his father.

The elder elf reached forward and began to unfasten the clasps of the young elf's light armor. Legolas' heart began to pound at his father's unusual behavior. There was still that look of disapproval on his father's face; at least it appeared that way to him. He gazed at his father's features for a moment, feeling saddened that he had somehow disappointed his beloved father. "A-are you going to beat me, Ada?" he finally braved in a voice filled with sadness and confusion.

Thranduil jerked his head up then, though he still continued with what he was doing. "Why on earth would you ask such a thing of me, child? Why would I beat you?"

Legolas continued to look at him searchingly. "Because you are angry with me about something, and b-because you are removing my tunic…" For indeed, Thranduil had finished with the armor, removing it and letting it slide to the ground. He had then begun to work on the clasps of the young elf's tunic.

He stopped now at the young elf's words though, placing his hands on the young one's shoulders and looking him in the eyes. "I am not displeased with you, Legolas. I am upset that you chose to hide something from me, and I am removing your tunic so that I can tend to what you have hidden myself."

Legolas flushed a bright red, lowering his face immediately. He should have known he could hide nothing from his wise father. "It's not that bad…" he protested. "Some of the others were hurt much worse. It does not even need tending."

Thranduil frowned then. "I will be the judge of that, penneth. You know better than to hide your injuries from me. You should have gone straight to the healers. I could have heard your report from the healing ward, or your second could have delivered it."

Legolas chewed on his lip uncomfortably, hoping that he hadn't displeased his father too greatly. Big, blue eyes filled with remorse looked up at Thranduil. "I'm sorry, Ada…" he whispered miserably. "Forgive me…"

Thranduil wrapped him in a loose hug, his heart melting at the pitiful look. "Oh, child. Why do you continue to worry me so? Of course I forgive you, penneth. I am simply worried about you." He pulled back then, smiling at his young son. He then went back to unfastening the tunic, finally achieving his goal and slipping it to the floor as well. His smile immediately vanished when he saw the injuries on the young elf.

An obvious stab wound was covered with hastily-strewn bandages, and his entire torso was bruised from the battle. He sighed, looking back up at his son, who was looking quite guilty. "This is not what I consider minor, child." he said sternly, but relented when he saw the etching of pain in the blue eyes and the dark circles from exhaustion, softening his voice. "Come, penneth. I will tend you."

And he did just that after leading the young elf into his own bed chambers and laying him down gently on the bed. He unwrapped the bandage, cleaned and stitched the wound, and sent the guard for some herbs that he then applied to the wound and to the dark bruises. After re-bandaging the wound, he pulled his son's velvet boots off, leaving him in leggings and stockinged feet, and covered him gently with several blankets. After helping him drink some healing tea that would send him into a restful sleep, he helped the young elf lay back down, kissing him tenderly on the forehead and smoothing back the soft, blonde hair.

Legolas looked up at him with relief and love. "Hannon le, Ada." He said softly, "Amin meleth le."

Thranduil smiled down at his precious elfling. Beating indeed! Where in Arda did his son get such ideas? "Amin meleth le, ion nin." He said gently as the young elf's eyes closed wearily and the sleeping drug took hold.

Elvish Translations:

Penneth – Young one

Hir nin – My Lord

Hannon le. – Thank you.

Amin meleth le. – I love you.

Ion nin – My son

Ada – Father/Daddy