This is chapter three from 'Mishaps of a young prince'. Some reviewers told me it would be better as a separate one shot, so here it is!

Legolas POV will be published as a second chapter in a few days!

Summary: this is the story of a balcony overlooking the forest, just outside Thranduil's study, and the many things that the King sees from there as years go by.

Main characters: Legolas and Thranduil, mainly. Some Enery as well, my made up name for Legolas' mother.

The balcony

Thranduil snorted, scattering away the papers on his table. Trade agreements, updates about the situation on the border, more trade agreements, letters from outside Realms, more trade agreements… this was not how he had planned to spend his afternoon.

He stood up from his chair, eager to escape, if only for a minute, from the tortuous labyrinth of politics in Greenwood. He walked to the balcony, congratulating himself on the bright idea of moving his study to a room overlooking the forest. Stepping outside, he let the soft rays of sun caress his face, while a gentle breeze moved the curtains behind him. He closed his eyes, wishing for this moment to last forever, allowing him a way out from the responsibilities and duties of a King, and providing the much-needed respite from the busy life in court.

A soft voice, brought by the wind, reached his ears, and he smiled.

If he had to identify that voice among a hundred, he would know to whom it belonged. If he had to distinguish it among a thousand, he would know who owned it. If he had to separate it among all voices in Middle Earth, he would still be able to do it without shadow of doubt. For it unmistakably was the voice of his wife. Enery, daughter of the forest and the river, of the leaves and the earth.

Thranduil leaned on the rail, looking for the one who held his heart. He saw her, and realized that she was really holding it, both metaphorically and literally. For Enery was singing to a small bundle in her arms. Legolas, their new born son and heir. Thranduil felt that his heart could burst in a thousand pieces at this picture. It seemed impossible that anyone could feel this way. A pure and raw love, without limits or hindrances. It seemed impossible that someone could survive such a wave of emotion. And yet, Thranduil did, every day, every time he saw them. It was something that made his legs weaken and reduced his strong arms to the most trembling jelly, but at the same time it infused and overwhelmed him with a strength he had never imagined. When he looked at them, he felt capable of everything. Beside them, there was nothing that could stop him, not even the awakening darkness in the east. Thranduil would give his life for them without a second thought.

Smiling again, he shook his head and let the end of Enery's song fill up his senses. But, with the last notes, the papers waiting for him on his table returned to his mind. Sighing bitterly, he turned around and closed the balcony doors. His feet seemed to have turned to lead, but he somehow managed to crawl back to the chair.

Thranduil let that moment pass, cherishing it in his memory but nothing more. He returned to work.

XxX

Thranduil snorted, scattering away the papers on his table. Trade agreements, updates about the situation on the border, more trade agreements, letters from outside realms, more trade agreements… this was not how he had planned to spend his afternoon.

The King tried to focus on his task once again. He had read the same paragraph at least a hundred times, but still could not fully understand what on Arda the King of Lake Town wanted. Either Thranduil had gone mad, or the human King had actually made up words while writing the letter.

A laugh, brought by the wind, reached his ears. He looked up, trying to see past the open doors of his balcony. However, he could not see anything but trees. Delighted to have found an excuse to put aside the unreadable letter, he got up and went out the balcony.

He looked around the green. Several warriors practiced archery, while a group of novices observed, mouth aghast, a sparring match. He felt his heart saddened, for the growing shadow in the east had made it necessary for the warriors to start training again and for many young elves to choose the path of the warrior.

The laughter got his attention again. Pushing the dark thoughts apart, he let his gaze roam until he found its owner. Immediately, a warm feeling invaded him from head to toe. There, near the trees, Legolas was trying to reach the branches of a tree. His mother, Enery, laughed at his small leaps and unsuccessful attempts to reach even the lowest branches. At last, taking pity on him, she lifted him up in her arms and helped him climb the tree. The expression on Legolas' face transformed into one of absolute satisfactions with himself, and happiness when the tree welcomed him among its branches.

Thranduil watched them play, hanging from the branches and trying to reach the fruits. Something quite unroyal, if they asked him. But he had not fallen in love with Enery because of formalism and stiffness. No, he left that to the Noldo. Enery was wild, a warrior who loved the forest and its people deeply. And like mother, like son, for Legolas was identical to Thranduil physically speaking, but his soul was that of his mother's. And Thranduil would not have it other way.

The King smiled, shaking his head and thinking about the papers that awaited him. He turned and closed the balcony doors.

Thranduil let that moment pass, cherishing it in his memory, but nothing more. He returned to work.

XxX

Thranduil snorted, scattering away the papers on his table. Trade agreements, updates about the situation on the border, more trade agreements, letters from outside realms, more trade agreements, and the worst: half-written letters to the families of fallen soldiers. This was not how he had planned to spend his afternoon.

He got up, stretching and trying to get rid of the rigidity that had taken over his body after spending several hours sitting. He looked around, trying to find a way out of the tremendous boredom that engulfed him.

Suddenly, he heard the unforgiving sound of metal clashing. Grimacing, he approached the balcony. Each day, more warriors would leave their homes, riding towards the uncertainty and danger of the forest. Something necessary since the shadow seemed to give them no respite. But something terrible, nonetheless. He closed his eyes, with his heart in a fist. The pain of his people was his pain, and their suffering his own. If only he could make the hordes of darkness disappear, if he could relieve his kingdom of the despair it suffered… oh, what would he give to save Greenwood from darkness and despair. Or Mirkwood, as some had started to call his forest. But he couldn't. He could only guide them as best as he could through the impenetrable night that loomed over them.

"Legolas!" Thranduil heard Enery call.

The King, startled by the alarmed tone, looked for his son. He found him holding a bow. Thranduil gasped. Legolas was still too young to hold a weapon. And yet, despite his tender age, the Prince seemed to have somehow understood his role. Thranduil and Enery had long since decided that they would not subject Legolas to the pressure of becoming a warrior. Legolas could be whatever he may like to be. In fact, Thranduil almost wished his son had found an eagerness in poetry. Legolas the minstrel. He liked the sound of it. The only danger he would find, a writer's block. The only suffering, the inability to rhyme a word. But no, Legolas had always had a disquieting fascination with warriors. Thranduil could not deny that this filled him with pride in a certain way, but he trembled at the consequences.

The King saw his wife snatch the bow away from Legolas, rather forcefully. He saw them argue. He saw Legolas walk away towards the palace. And he saw Enery sigh defeated, her shoulders drooping.

Thranduil shivered. He turned and closed the balcony doors.

Thranduil let that moment pass, trying to erase it from his memory. He returned to work.

XxX

Thranduil did not snort this time. Nor did he scatter away the papers that covered his table. Actually, there really weren't that much papers lately. Only some letters from kings and queens lamenting their loss. Being sorry for the death of a Queen they had never met. Hypocrites.

It had been a long time since Thranduil had last cried. His eyes had dried. He had no strength, or perhaps he had tired of crying. Who knows. There was only one certainty: tears were not going to bring Enery back.

He let out a trembling sigh. Suddenly, a soft cry reached his ears.

He knew to whom it belonged. Of course he knew. He got up, walking slowly to the balcony. The night was clear, and the starts shone brightly. Enery loved this kind of nights.

His black clothes merged with the dark landscape. Thranduil stared at the horizon, trying to ignore the forest underneath it. The forest she had loved. The forest she had been born in. And the forest she had died in.

Again, the sobs got his attention. He looked down, finding a thin dark shape kneeling in front of a bench. The soft glow of golden hair gave the identity of the elf away. Legolas. His head was between his arms, which rested on the cold surface of the stone bench. And his shoulder shook as he cried.

This public demonstration of feelings was not usual in Legolas. His son was more of a wounded animal when hurt, licking his wounds in private. But no. This was too much. This surpassed everyone, even him.

Thranduil felt what little remained of his heart shatter. It almost physically hurt. But, who was he trying to fool, he could not feel anything anymore. Thranduil was nothing now. He had lost his flame of hope in the darkness.

Thranduil felt his throat closing, eyes filling with tears. He could not breath. How was he supposed to continue living now? Without the one who had filled his days with love and happiness? Without his other half?

The King turned around. For a moment he hesitated. He wanted to go down and comfort his son. To hold him in his arms.

But he didn't.

Thranduil let that moment pass, closing the balcony doors. He cried.

XxX

Thranduil snorted, scattering away the papers on his table. Trade agreements, updates about the situation on the border, more trade agreements, letters from outside realms, more trade agreements, letter to the families of fallen soldiers, that had sadly become the norm, rather than the exception. This was not how he had planned to spend his afternoon.

Two loud knocks at the door got Thranduil out of his thoughts. Before he could answer, and elf with golden hair and deep blue eyes stepped into his study.

"Ada, I'm leaving now."

Thranduil sighed. He knew that this moment had to come, and he had feared it since Elrond had asked for him or a representative of his realm to attend a secret council in Imladris. Something had happened. Something was stirring in the east. Thranduil knew it, Thranduil felt it. And he had a suspicion of what it could be. It was like a soft whisper, coming from the darkest corners of his mind. But he refused to think it true.

The King stood up, laying his hands on his son's shoulders affectionately. "May the Valar accompany you." His hand stroked Legolas' cheek.

The Prince laughed. "You look like we were not going to see each other again, Ada. I will be back in a few days, worry not." He said, covering his father's hand with his own.

"I have a bad feeling, Legolas. Please be careful."

"I will. I promise you. I will see you soon."

And with that, he was gone.

Thranduil could not help himself. He walked to the balcony and leaned out. There, he saw Daeron, waiting for the Prince. Legolas merrily walked down the main entrance's stairs. He climbed on his horse.

Thranduil felt a twinge of anguish. This was not going to be an ordinary trip. He knew something was about to change. He did not know what or why, but something kept him awake at night. He had not been blessed, or cursed, with the gift of foresight, but Thranduil could have sworn something lurked on the horizon.

His sight landed in the east. Far, far away, even beyond the realms of Men, an evil stirred, awakening from a dream it should never have returned from, trying to extend its dark tentacles through Middle Earth.

"Do not dare," he hissed at it. "do not dare hurt him. Do not dare touch a single hair on his head. Do not approach him, do not lay your eyes on him. Leave him be." Somehow, Thranduil felt that his words were being heard. "He has suffered enough on your account. Leave him be. Or you will have to face me. I may only be an elf, but I swear I will tear this world apart until we face each other. And, even if all around me is terror and despair, I will destroy you. Even if it's the last thing I do. I swear you."

Thranduil shuddered. In the distance, he thought he saw the glow of a fire. But no, it could not be. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Legolas was right. Nothing would happen. He had to trust his son.

He looked down. Legolas and Daeron were about to disappear into the trees.

Thranduil had to fight the temptation to go down, grab his son and lock him in the palace's most impregnable dungeon. But no. He restrained himself. That was not the way of kings.

Thranduil let that moment pass, closing the balcony doors. He sat down and did something he had not done in a long time. He prayed.

XxX

Thranduil snorted, scattering away the papers on his table. Trade agreements were the only thing that filled it now. The most boring task of all, no doubt, but the King could not help feeing grateful. It was not that there were only trade agreements, but that there was nothing else. No border updates. No letters to families of fallen soldier. Only trade agreements. Thranduil was almost, almost, eager to get to work.

Suddenly, he felt something. He froze on his chair. Something that he had not felt in a long time. Something he had wished to feel, that he had spent innumerable sleepless nights imploring the Valar for. Something that had stretched, never breaking, but not as close as it should. And that something had returned.

That someone was coming back. He was coming home.

Trembling, he strode his study. 'Please, do not let me be mistaken.' He thought. 'Please, let it be true.'

He opened the doors of his balcony, and, at the same time, he heard the hasty footsteps of a group of elves heading to his study, no doubt to inform him of the news. But it was not necessary, because Thranduil already knew. He had felt it.

Down on the green, a large crowd of elves had gathered. They looked expectantly at the trees, which whispered and moved their leaves as never before. Without a doubt, something wonderful was about to happen. Thranduil had to hold on to the balcony rail. He squinted his eyes, trying to see something through the trees.

And suddenly, there it was. Fresh as the first day, but with an air of solemnity and security around him. Legolas, his son and heir Legolas. He was coming home. Returning from a war that had carried him away from his father. Thranduil felt his heart swell with pride and love. Tears filled his eyes. He let out a soft sigh, lowering his head and closing his eyes.

'Thank you.' He simply said. To whom, he did not now. To the Valar. To Enery, maybe. It did not matter.

When he opened his eyes again, he found his son staring at him from the green, smiling.

Thranduil did not let that moment pass. He closed the balcony doors, and also the study doors behind him, hurrying down to the palace's entrance. And, when he finally held his son in his arms, he realized something.

King Thranduil had stayed in the study, with his papers and politics. The one who was here, surrounded by claiming elves, was not the King of Greenwood, but simply Legolas' father.

Because there and then, Thranduil realized that he was first father, and only second, King.

Thank you very much for reading! I would love to hear something from you! Legolas POV coming soon!