Legolas' weary legs carried him down the hallway without even a thought about it, the night air was crisp and fresh and part of him was disappointed he was not staying up to join the festivities. The hall of fire was full of cheer and song, as it usually was, especially on beautiful summer nights such as this. But the journey from Greenwood to Rivendell was not an overly swift one, made even worse and slower with the dark creatures prowling around in the shadows.

He had been weary long before he left his home, and the idea of a nice soft bed was too good of an offer to give up. Even more so considering he had spent more nights than not in the past several months either sleeping on the cold ground in his forest, or perched gently but tensely on a tree branch. The best part yet was the knowledge that once the door closed, Elrond would personally assure that nobody bothered him until he stirred himself the next day of his own accord.

He was potentially more excited about this night's sleep than any other aspect of his entire life.

And then he heard it.

That sound.

That sound that sounded suspiciously like muffled sobbing.

Legolas paused his strides, tilting his head slightly to the side to listen better. Sure enough the sound was coming from the room of the very young boy who he had met only today, Estel.

The boy had been very small, and very shy. At the time Legolas he been shocked at the sheer lack of size of the tiny creature. There had not been any elflings in greenwood since he himself was one, and he did not spend enough time, or anytime, with mortals and so had not witnessed their tiny offspring either.

Legolas knew, in theory, that he had been as small as Estel was at a time. Even smaller, Elrond had assured him. He still planned to double check this information with his father upon his return, although he had a strong suspicion Elrond was correct.

He heard the sound again, slightly louder this time.

Frantically he looked around, desperately hoping somebody, anybody would be around to help the child. Somebody that wasn't him. Anybody that wasn't him.

Again, the degected noise of a heartbroken child reached his ears.

He contemplated returning to the hall of fire, to get Elrond or one of the twins. But that would take some time and he could not, in good conscience, ignore the sound.

So he approached the door.

He knocked lightly, hoping that it was normal for one to knock on a child's door. Or should he have just gone in? Did children need privacy? He did not know, but supposed it did not matter all that much anyways.

The sniffling stopped, but he did not hear a call to enter the room. So he did it anyways.

The room was relatively dark, a candle burned softly in one corner to help fight off the terror that was darkness. The window was open and the curtains pulled back to allow in both the moonlight and the soft breeze of summer.

Legolas had expected to find the child curled up on the bed, or at the very least perhaps a chair. But the young mortal was not to be found in either place.

Crouching down, the elf looked under the bed first, but found nothing but a few discarded socks and some books Legolas assumed the twins read to him before bed.

But there it was again, the sniffle. The verbal confirmation of heartbreak, for why else would a child cry as such at night, when their minds were supposed to be in happier places. He turned to his left and eyed the wardrobe that stood confidently in the corner, a tiny crack was left open to allow light into the small dark space.

With only two steps over, he stood in front of it. Carefully, cautiously, and slowly he pulled open the door to reveal a small heap of a child in the back corner.

He had wrapped himself in a cloak and hugged a stuffed bear closely to his chest. Tears still streamed down the young boy's face, reflecting sharply in the moonlight. The cloak was not of elvish making, Legolas noted, and he guessed that it had belonged to one of the boys parents.

Legolas had been well informed about what had happened to the boy's parents.

The boy stared up at him sorrowfully, but made no effort to move away or speak. Carefully, Legolas knelt down in front of the open wardrobe door. He was unaware of how to comfort a child, but was willing to give it his best effort.

"Hello Estel, we met earlier today. Do you remember me?" He ensured his voice was soft and soothing, the one he would use to approach an injured animal.

The little boy nodded hesitantly.

"I heard the sound of your weeping, and came to see if you were alright."

The boy said nothing, just stared up at him with eyes still full of tears. Legolas pursed his lips in thought for a moment, he truly had no idea what to do.

"Did you have a dark dream?"

The boy shook his head.

"Would you like me to go get Elrond, or Elladan and Elrohir?" Fetching help truly did seem like the best option at this point. Pass the small and breakable creature into much softer hands.

The boy shook his head.

"Would you like me to leave?" If the boy wanted him to go, he would. He would go fetch a member of his new family, but he would leave the boy. He knew sorrow was a crafty business, difficult enough on its own without an audience.

The boy shook his head, eyes widening slightly with fear, "Please stay."

"Then I will stay."

The Prince sank the rest of the way to the ground, sitting cross legged in the doorway of the wardrobe. Still at a loss for his next course of action. Should he try and comfort him? He did not know the boy very well, and he himself did not care of physical contact with strangers. Did mortal children care about such things? He did not know.

Legolas knew many things, but he was beginning to suspect that the things he did know were far outnumbered by the things he did not know.

The child continued to cry softly, and the elf did the only thing he could think of to help calm him.

He began to sing very softly.

He sang a happy song of the comings of spring. About the flowers blooming, the sun shining, and the creatures prancing. It had been his own favorite song when he was an elfling, begging his father to sing it to him constantly. He had many fond memories of curling up in his father's lap, ready for bed but not yet asleep, listening to his father's soft voice singing him to dreams.

He finished that song, and then sang several others before the boy finally spoke to him.

"I miss mama."

Legolas' voice faded into the darkness around them at his words without finishing the song. His heart breaking silently for this sweet boy who was so young still but so full of pain. For the young eyes that had seen too many things, too many deaths.

He contemplated his response briefly, unsure exactly what level of information was too much information for the boy.

"I miss my mama too."

The boy appraised him suspiciously, like he was trying to detect a falsehood in the elf sentence. The child was probably accustomed to those older than him to trying to prove they understood his pain. That they knew it as well as he. Chances were though, they did not know the pain as well as he. But Legolas knew his pain.

There was also a chance the boy had only looked at him as he had looked at him every other time; with something close to indifference. There was a chance Legolas was creating his own sadness for the boy.

But no, he could not be. Those eyes did not lie, and they did not hide their pain.

"Would you like to know what helps me feel better?"

The boy nodded.

"Do you like the stars, Estel?" The boy nodded again. "Your mother is a star now, the brightest one in the sky."

The boys eyes darted from the elf's face and out the window, staring up into the night sky. Eyes finding the brightest star, the north star.

"She will never move from that spot. She will shine down on you every night from her home in the sky, she watches you always with the love only a mother can have. When you are older, you will be able to guide yourself with her light."

The boy slid his eyes back to the elf, looking slightly more hopeful.

"It is true, I swear upon it."

The boy seemed somewhat contented with this new information, trusting it as truth like only the young can. There were no more tears falling from his eyes, but they still held their sadness.

"It is okay to miss her still, too. I miss my mama still. But you do not have to miss her alone, you do not have to hide it."

The boy seemed to mull this over for a moment, and Legolas allowed him his time to think before he spoke once more.

"Next time, go find somebody. Tell them you are sad, let them hug you and wipe your tears. They will not think any less of you. Okay?"

The boy nodded.

"Do you promise me?"

The boy nodded again.

Now, Legolas was at another loss for what to do. He had successfully stopped the tears, but did not feel comfortable leaving the child yet. Letting him sleep back into his sadness. Yet the boy refused to talk, so it was not as if one could have a conversation.

His eyes roamed around the room, looking for something suitable to help him distract the child. The elf smiled to himself, and then laid upon the floor and stretched forwards enough to reach one of the books that rested underneath the bed.

"Would you like me to read to you?" He asked, holding up the front cover of the book for the boys inspection.

"I know that one." The boy squeaked out, hands pulling at his bears fur.

"Oh. Would you like me to go and fetch a different story?"

"No, that is my favorite"

Legolas gifted the tiny creature with a bright smile, "It is one of my favorites as well."

The boy smiled back at him, and then patted the tiny space next to him expectantly.

Legolas would have much rathered been in bed by now, or at the very least laid on the bed or sat in the chair with the boy. He was weary, sleep, and stiff. But he climbed into the wardrobe without a pause or second thought.

The two settled themselves in, somehow they found a manner to sit that served both of them well and the elf began to read. He was interrupted only once by the boy, at the beginning of the story when he was chastised for not doing different voice for the characters.

After that the boy said nothing, he listened to the story intently and snuggled into the side of his new friend. Legolas was not sure who fell asleep first, him or the boy.

But he awoke first when the wardrobe door opened in the morning, his one arms still around the child, and the book still open in his lap. Elrond's pleased, loving and highly amused smile was the first thing the both of them saw that day.