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

Authors Note: I'm so sorry for the delay. I hope everyone will enjoy this new chapter, and I hope you are all surviving in this chaos and challenging times! As many of you know, I have been struggling with finding enough work and taking care of my son as a single parent. I also have been busy writing on my own worlds and characters in order to make a living, and I have some exciting news to share with you!

I have published a book, "Dangerous Doorways are for Elfling Princes." It is available on amz and b&n for anyone interested, and just as in all stories on this site, all reviews are greatly appreciated! Thank you for all your support, my friends, and for all your encouragement over the years. As we are all forced to be inside even more, I am going to make an extreme effort to finish these stories and others that have been mentioned.

I hope you enjoy! :)

It was dark, he knew, and there was throbbing pain, the kind of pain that meant he had been drugged with medicine. He must be injured, but even with his eyes closed, he could sense that he wasn't in his room… the healing halls perhaps, but there was a distinctive smell and feel to the healing halls that was lacking. He was in a soft bed; this much he knew from the feel of the cotton sheets against his fevered skin and the large pillows cradling his head. It was familiar… it almost seemed like, but no…why would he be there? He had not spent the night in his Ada's room for many years now, not since becoming a warrior.

The throbbing pain grew stronger, sending sharp waves of agony through his chest. He coughed, trying to lose the tightness that suddenly accumulated in his lungs, but with the cough came a sharp flare of hot pain that took his breath away, and suddenly he was struggling just to draw another breath in. It was still dark, and he began to get frightened. He was always good at seeing in the dark, and had been praised by his tutors and trainers for his night vision. Why was it so dark now that he could not even make out a shadow? Then, he realized with embarrassment that his eyes were closed, something he was not used to as an elf unless seriously injured or exhausted, and he managed to crack his eyelids open slightly enough to see the worried face of Nimbrethil hovering over him as he placed a hand on his chest and another on his forehead. Nimbrethil's mouth was moving, but he could only hear a dull roar in his ears as the violent waves of agony crashed and shimmered all around him and spots grew in his vision from lack of air.

"….at peace, young one," Nimbrethil was saying, the words slowly coming into hearing as the pain began to diminish slightly. "Just breathe slowly, and it will pass." The healer smiled reassuringly at the young elf, who tried to focus on his words until the he could finally breathe more easily. Nimbrethil released the pressure on his chest and forehead, and moved a slender hand to squeeze Legolas' shoulder. "I am glad to see you awake, Penneth. I need you to take more medicine." He reached over for an already-prepared cup of tea after helping ease Legolas into a slightly-sitting position against the mound of pillows stacked up on the bed. The healer was making an obvious attempt to hide the concern showing on his face, but Legolas knew him well enough to see through his failed attempt.

The young elf made a valiant effort to gulp down the entire cup, wanting to wipe away the worry on the beloved elder's face, but began to feel so ill halfway through that he had to push the cup away. Nimbrethil turned away to hide his frown, but Legolas saw it. After he managed to swallow back the nausea he was feeling, he reached over and pulled at his "uncle's" sleeve. "I am sorry, Uncle," he said breathlessly. "I do not mean to cause you worry."

Nimbrethil turned back to him with a wry smile. "Are you quite certain, Legolas? I was assured that it was your sole purpose in life—to cause me worry and give me grey hair." He ruffled the elfling's blonde hair teasingly, bringing a strained smile to Legolas' lips.

"You cannot get grey hair," Legolas' voice dropped down to a whisper as the strain of talking began to pull at his aching chest. "You are an elf!"

"I use walnut dye to cover it up," the healer said seriously, and Legolas gaped at him, not sure whether or not to believe him, for the elder elf seemed so honest. Nimbrethil relented, feeling badly for teasing him when he was so ill. "Not really, Penneth," he said with a gentle smile, smoothing back stray tendrils of hair and tucking them behind the elfling's pointed ears.

Legolas grimaced at the healer's joke, then looked around curiously, apparently noting the time of day from the light still streaming in through the balcony doors, though night was fast approaching. "Where is Ada, Uncle?" he asked finally, his voice very close to that of a young elfling missing his parent, though he tried to sound casual.

Nimbrethil hid a smile. Legolas was still so very young. "He had some… matters to take care of, Penneth. He shall be here shortly. We both have an important meeting later, and Galion shall be coming to sit with you."

Curiosity sprang into the elfling's large, blue eyes, and Nimbrethil felt cheered at the positive sign. "What is the meeting for? I really do not need a sitter, you know. I am a warrior now…"

The healer chuckled, still sitting peacefully on the bed facing the younger elf. "He is not sitting with you because of your lack of age, and well you know it! You are still very ill, child. And you will have to ask your Ada about the meeting. You know I cannot disclose the king's business until he allows it."

Legolas came so very close to pouting for a moment, then brushed it off and asked Nimbrethil about his family and how they were doing. The healer hid a pang in his heart at the young prince's swift ability to instantly push his own wishes aside to be concerned about others, and made a mental note that he at least take more time to make sure the young elf found daily happiness. Legolas was so busy taking care of the realm, and no one ever seemed to notice that everyone else was too busy to take care of him! He responded to the young elf's questions, however, not wishing him to feel excluded from his personal life, and asked the younger elf questions about his hobbies and activities, keeping a keen ear open for any tidbits of information that Legolas might let slip about the issues he had faced—or Astaldo…

Thranduil soon returned to his chambers, taking great care to shower his elfling with love and affection, embracing him carefully and fluffing his pillows, plying him with honeyed tea, and showing him how happy he was that his son was awake and coherent. "You had me so worried, Elfling!" he chastised mildly. "You mustn't every do that to me again! I shall certainly get grey hair if you keep this up. I will be the talk of Arda this side of the sea! The very first elf with grey hair… they shall say…"

Legolas bit his lip, his eyes widening. "Uhm… Adar… you do know your hair is nearly white, do you not?"

Thranduil took his son's cup away, leaving his hands still lying in midair at the abrupt motion. "White is the color of fresh snow on a dull winter landscape," he waved a hand disdainfully in the air. "It is a color of purity and joy, not the dull grey of old age…"

Legolas' eyes widened even more, mirth ringing clearly in them, as he joined eyes with Nimbrethil, who pursed his lips together and turned away to hide his dancing eyes. This was an ongoing debate between the two royals, and one that he found quite entertaining. He waited for Legolas to respond in kind, and was saddened when he was quiet once more. At least he felt like conversing and teasing a little, which was an improvement over just a few hours ago. Perhaps the child would recover quicker than he had expected!

The three elves spent the next hour conversing softly, the older elves purposely keeping to carefree topics. Nimbrethil gave Legolas more medicine, happy to see the young elf's fever was lower than before. He had been worried he might have to send a bird requesting Elrond to visit, but perhaps it would not be necessary after all.

Galion soon arrived after that, and with a few whispered instructions, Nimbrethil left his patient in the wise steward's care and left with Thranduil.

Once in Thranduil's office, away from younger listening ears, the two elder elves discussed at length all the known issues with Astaldo, the old servant elf who had been in the Royal Family for countless ages, a lurking presence that had always slightly disturbed Thranduil when he was an elfling growing up. He had never had much direct contact with the elf during his youth, however, and did not know much about him beyond the fact that he had been with his own father, Oropher, for many ages before his birth. Galion had always had a place of prominence in the matters of the Kings, and he generally dealt with the other household servants.

"I should have thought to ask Galion to give us more information about Astaldo before our meeting," Thranduil said regretfully, sitting on the edge of his office couch in front of the fireplace and swirling a cup of Dorwinion around in an elegant wine glass. Nimbrethil had chosen tea, preferring to remain clear-headed for his patient, and for this discussion, and took a long sip of the steaming liquid before answering, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"And then there would be another one in this room thirsting for Astaldo's blood, and no one to watch over the elfling…" he teased. "You know well Galion's love for the princeling. I did not think it an accidental oversight that you have failed to mention what is going on to Galion…"

Thranduil smiled wryly. "You are right, as usual, mellon nin! I fear Galion would hold himself to blame as well, as one who generally hires on the household help and oversees them all. No one elf can watch over everyone all of the time, and I do not blame him, but I know him well enough to know he would feel quite differently over the matter."

Nimbrethil grinned then. "And 'I' fear you are going to have to tell him sooner or later. I do not think a household servant can just 'disappear' on a permanent basis without Galion eventually noticing… Unless you are planning to still keep him on?" A brown eyebrow lifted as Nimbrethil awaited an answer.

Thranduil sighed, leaning back on the couch, an expression of great weariness sweeping over his fair features. "It is enjoyable to play around with the idea of seeking some type of reparation for Legolas' sake, but Astaldo is older than I am, and of my father's age. It ill behooves me to wreak childish vengeance on an elder who should be respected. And, I cannot help but wonder 'WHY' he has wreaked such havoc upon Legolas…"

Nimbrethil frowned then, all signs of mischief sweeping away at Thranduil's comment. He clasped his tea mug in both hands, enjoying the feel of the warmth, as he stared into the dark depths. "I must admit," he muttered finally, "the same question came to MY mind. I have known him for countless centuries as well, though we are not close. He is abrupt and a little 'coarse around the edges' for an elf, but nevertheless seems to be quite loyal and fulfills his duties to a fault. I know you have never felt easy around him, and admittedly, he is difficult to talk with and get to know, but I hope I would sense if an elf was truly evil, as rare as it is."

Thranduil sighed heavily, setting his wine glass down on the table before the couch, then standing to pace around the room, hands clasped behind his flowing robes. "And I as well, though I did not sense it in the weapons master, and he was one of the few that had a black heart, turned dark from bitterness and rage at the world. It is rare, to be sure, but not impossible."

Nimbrethil looked up at him with a serious face. "You will have to judge for yourself when you have questioned him, my friend. I will stand behind you no matter what decision you make. You know this. If you choose to beat him into the ground… I shall join you… Or if you choose to keep him on in your household and allow me to trip him every day, I shall be happy to oblige…"

Thranduil chuckled, seeing the twinkle in his friend's eye. "Perhaps I shall join you…" he said wryly, then turned to face the door as a light knock sounded against the heavy wood. "Enter!" he called, going to stand before the fireplace, standing tall with hands clasped behind his back and looking quite imposing.

A brown-haired elf entered, his green eyes hazy with age and his thin build straight and proud. He closed the door quietly behind him and came over to stand before the king, bowing his head regally and clasping his hands together in front of him.

Thranduil looked at him carefully for a moment, feeling a sudden rush of compassion for the elder elf as he stood so calmly and quietly before his king. He exchanged a look with Nimbrethil, who apparently had been smitten with the same amount of elven compassion as he had, a look of sudden distress on his face. He sighed, looking back at Astaldo.

"Kneel before your king," Thranduil said firmly, knowing that at the very least the father in him would not allow at least a touch of respite. "Tell me why you have betrayed me in such a way, and tell me swiftly, for I will not abide any more deceit."

Astaldo gasped, his face paling and his eyes filling with a look of stricken shock as he looked immediately up at Thranduil. "My-my Lord, I do not understand… What is my sin, that you would accuse me so?"

Thranduil's anger began to boil again. "Sin? SIN? You dare to deny any knowledge of the wrongs you have committed? You know well what sins have darkened my halls these many years. My child sits forlorn and weakened in a state of injury because of these very sins."

Astaldo paled even more, but not without one swift look of annoyance flashing through his eyes, a look that both other elves immediately caught.

"Aha!" said Nimbrethil, all sympathy suddenly vanishing as he leapt to his feet, pointing a finger at Astaldo. "You bear ill feelings towards the elfling! Do not deny it!"

Astaldo lowered his head for a moment and the other two elves exchanged a glance, wondering if he was trying to hide his true feelings. When he looked up, his fathomless eyes were churning with weariness and indecision. He sighed, unclasping his hands and sweeping them out to the sides in a defeated gesture. "It cannot be denied, that I found a child in the Keep wearisome and tedious. As well, it reminded me of my own sons, long passed since the dawning of the Evil…" He lowered his head once more as his voice cracked slightly on the last words, and Thranduil and Nimbrethil exchanged looks of horror. They had never known that about the old elf, and felt ashamed not to know such an important detail about one in their own household.

"But more than that," Astaldo continued after a moment, raising dampened and shining eyes back up to look at his King, "I am from an older time, and our ways were different. I did not wish the child to become spoiled, and I did not wish his behavior to disturb my King, who reminds me of one of my own sons and who I greatly admire and care for. You are overworked already, my Lord, and you did not need the pressures of a misbehaving child. I am sorry if my actions have harmed the child. It truly was never my intention to cause him any harm, just to frighten him into behaving well for you."

Thranduil was silent for a very long moment, his eyes filled with a combination of horror, shock, revulsion, and a dawning sympathy, mixed with a remnant of anger. Nimbrethil placed a hand on his friend's arm, as though reminding him of where he was and what he needed to deal with. Thranduil shook his head to clear it, clenching his hands into fists as he sent a dark glare at Astaldo. "You certainly frightened him, if that was your goal. You frightened him so much his entire life that he was afraid to come to me, his father, with his troubles. You frightened him so much that he feared I would beat him or seriously harm him over any infraction. You frightened him so much that he hid serious injuries, more than once, and nearly died because of it…"

Shock, then sadness, swept across Astaldo's fair face. He immediately dropped down to both knees, bowing his head in subjugation. "'Twas never my intent," he mumbled, and both other elves could hear a great weariness of spirit in his voice. "I was rather fond of the child at times, but I could not bear to be around him because he reminded me too much of my loss. I pray I have not caused irreparable harm. I shall apologize to the child, of course, and accept whatever punishment you deem fitting for me, for great are my sins."

Thranduil and Nimbrethil looked at each other in consternation. This was not going at all how they expected, and they both felt a strange loss at losing someone to place their anger upon. "But what about the training captain?" Nimbrethil remembered suddenly, and Thranduil's eyes widened.

"Yes… Legolas is hiding something about him, something bad… I thought I knew everything that had happened with him, but now…I'm not so sure…"

Astaldo looked up at them both, and the experience and years of the wise elves could tell there was no deception in his grief-filled eyes. "That is a time I have tried hard to forget. I…bore ill will against the captain… so I used him as a means to threaten the child before, saying the captain would beat him. When it came true… I was ashamed to admit my part in the child's fear, but I also did not think it would be believed that I had not been aware of it. I…suspected at times, I believe, because of how the child would act after an 'extended day' with practice, but I did not really care to find out." He sighed, his eyes shadowed with shame and sadness as he continued to meet the eyes of his King. "I am sorry, my Lord. I do not truly hate the child. I actually am quite fond of him, but my heart grows weary, and I cannot bear to be reminded of my own lost children. I should have sailed long ago and this never would have been your burden to bear—or your elfling's. I ask your forgiveness, when you are able to do so, and I ask your permission to sail. I…hoped to serve you well, but even in this task I have failed. There is nothing for me here on this side of the shores except memories and failures."

Thranduil almost, but not quite, gaped at the old elf. He was silent a long moment, and his swirling maelstrom of feelings was apparently felt by Nimbrethil as well, who for once stood silently and left Thranduil alone with his thoughts. He sighed then, stepping forward to touch Astaldo's cheek. "My thoughts of you have been…less than kind…of late. I harbored all sorts of unjustified ideas for revenge, for it was thought that this entire matter was instigated by you and acted upon by you. I am sorry for my thoughts, and I accept your forgiveness. You have served me faithfully over the years, Astaldo. I am sorry for your losses, and that you could not find the peace you seek in my halls. I grant your leave for the Valinor when you are ready. But I ask your help first in finding out what my son may be hiding. You spoke of knowledge of the captain's ill doings. I sense there is something more from that period of time that Legolas has not told me, something that prevents him from healing well now. Will you help me before you go?"

A look of grateful relief spread across the old elf's face, and he bowed his head. "Thank you, Aran nin. I do not deserve your mercy. I will seek the child and apologize to him as well. Mayhap I can undo at least a little of the harm I have caused. And yes, I will help you as much as I am able to do so."

"Good," Thranduil said, his smile warmer than before as he held out a hand for the elder elf to take, indicating he was dismissed. Astaldo hesitated a moment before accepting it, a sad smile on his fair features as he rose gracefully to his feet, bowing his head once more. A look of shame remained in his eyes as he pulled his hand out of Thranduil's light grip. He bowed at the waist to emphasis his sorrow and respect for his King, before backing out and closing the door softly behind him.

Nimbrethil sighed, filling Thranduil's glass with more wine and handing it to him as he took up his own cup of tea once more. "And now we are without an enemy to wreak our vengeance on," he said almost sadly.

Thranduil smiled. "Would you have me send a grieving ancient to the healing wards, old friend? Would you have your King mete out punishment without remorse?"

Nimbrethil smiled gently. "Nay, my King," he said in a low voice. "For that is why we love you so. You are wiser than us, your people."

Thranduil sobered, taking a long sip of his wine. "Not as wise as I needed to be when it came to being a father, I fear. I hope Astaldo will not cause the elfling more despair, for I could not bear being the cause of it again."

"I do not think he will," Nimbrethil assured. "He seemed sincere to me, and now that he knows what harm he has wreaked, I believe him capable of making amends."

"Time will tell," Thranduil sighed, setting his glass down on the fireplace mantle. "Time will tell."

In the meantime, Galion was plying his young charge with teas, medicines, stories, and even trying to sneak him a few butter cookies. Legolas managed to nibble on one, but did not feel well enough to consume more than that, smiling up at the elder elf apologetically as he finally took away the small platter with a look of intense disappointment. "They are good," Legolas said hastily, not wishing to offend the beloved advisor.

"I know you do not feel well, child," Galion responded with a gentle smile, his familiar voice soft and musical to Legolas' ears. "Do not apologize to me." He placed the platter to the side and retrieved the most recent cup of unfinished tea from Legolas' trembling hands, setting it down beside the platter on the side table. "Now, would you like another story, would you like to rest, or would you like to talk for a while?"

Legolas smiled wryly before he could stop himself. The emphasis on the last phrase indicated Galion's strong desire to talk, and it was likely so that he could find out more information. The young elf was not ignorant of the attempts of his Adar and Nimbrethil to get him to open up and be more forthcoming. He could not blame them, but he refused to acquiesce. There were some things that were best left in the past, things that would only hurt his family more if they knew. He sighed then, feeling the weight of too many pressures upon his slim shoulders. He was weary—weary from thinking about it, weary from trying to make sure information did not come to light, weary from having to worry about everyone else, weary from having to feel frightened to be forthcoming. He did not like this. He preferred honesty in his dealings with his family. He could well remember the time he had "borrowed" the gold coins from his Adar's Treasury, and how guilty he had felt over the comparatively mild transgression and deception—at least mild for such a young elfling. Perhaps someday… Perhaps someday he could rid his life of the fear and deception, and live the carefree life he wished to live…

"A gold coin for your thoughts," a soft voice broke into Legolas' mental ramblings, and he jolted as he suddenly remembered Galion was sitting on a few inches away and watching him carefully. He turned to look at the other elf with a look of fondness, for, of course, Galion was referencing the gold coins he had just been thinking about, reminding him in his own, unique way that it was not a large matter.

"Thank you, Galion," Legolas said softly. "Thank you for always being on my side and supporting me. I cannot tell you how much it has meant to me…"

Galion paled, blinking his large eyes rapidly as though against spreading moisture. He cleared his throat as he leaned closer to Legolas, catching up the smaller hands in both of his own and clutching them tightly. "Ai, little one … sometimes I do not think you know how much you mean to 'me,' to say such a thing… I only wish you had felt that you could confide in me more over the years. I will never judge you, penneth. I only wish you to be healthy and happy."

Legolas blushed. "I know, Galion, I know." He squeezed the elder elf's hands back and smiled brightly at him. "Will you tell me the story of the giant tree? The one that you knew in your old lands?"

Galion pursed his lips together, obviously biting off a reply with effort. He schooled his face into a look of fondness and peace, but Legolas could sense his frustration in how the younger elf had changed the subject. "Of course," he said softly, still holding Legolas' hands as he began his story.

They were interrupted some minutes later by a soft knock on the door. Thinking it was his father, then abruptly realizing Thranduil would not knock on his own door, Legolas' face filled with joy, then changed to an expression of curiosity.

"Come!" Galion called out, still holding Legolas' hands and showing no intention of letting go. The door opened from the sitting room, the soft footsteps could be heard approaching the entrance to the bed chambers. The slightly ajar door was pushed all the way open, and both Legolas and Galion gasped in shock, Galion's hands tightening on Legolas' as a frown crossed his face.

Astaldo stood in the doorway, his features filled with anguish.