Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter

Chapter 11: Going Home

The family sitting room of the king opened on to its own terraced patio, one of the many openings from the great caverns that made up the palace and stronghold of the woodland realm. On this warm spring night, the family was seated just inside the door, and Elrohir enjoyed watching the king with his family.

As the hour grew late, Legolas had slowed down from being in constant motion to lying on the floor and finally to crawling into his father's lap. Thranduil had risen to take him to bed, but tired eyes had focused half-heartedly and a small voice had begged to be allowed to stay up just a little longer.

"I just want to listen, Ada," he had said sleepily.

"You must allow him to visit Imladris," teased Glorfindel, "for never have I had such a fine audience." He resumed singing softly then, long fingers strumming slowly on the borrowed harp.

The king smiled indulgently at his elfling. "He appreciates the music, I am sure, but I think he also wishes to listen to what might be said. He has enjoyed having visitors."

"Checkmate," announced Lathron.

Elrohir quickly looked at the chessboard, for he had not seen that move coming. A slow grin spread over his face as he watched the look on Elladan's face change from surprise to disbelief to scowling acceptance. Elladan sank in his chair, resting his head on the chessboard as a groan escaped him.

"I seldom lose at chess, my friend, and not in several centuries have I lost more than once in an evening," groaned Elladan.

Glorfindel's music suddenly stopped and he snorted indelicately. "If you do not lose more than once in an evening, it is because you pick your partners carefully."

Elladan blushed slightly, but he glared at Glorfindel. "Only Adar still beats me."

"And Erestor," added Elrohir helpfully.

"Your daernaneth," Glorfindel reminded him.

Elrohir heard the low growl coming from his brother, and he laughed as he tugged on his twin's braid. "You do routinely beat me, and Glorfindel, and Daeradar, and Arwen, and Naneth. We all avoid playing you more than once an evening."

Elladan gave him a withering look, which only made Elrohir grin more.

"Would you care to play again?" asked Lathron lightly.

"No, twice humiliated is enough for one night," replied Elladan with mock sullenness.

"My brother always wins," murmured Legolas as he yawned.

"Which brother?" asked Elladan, a glimmer in his eyes.

Legolas opened one eye wide to look at Elladan, lifting his face from where it was pillowed against Thranduil's chest. He seemed to be thinking deeply as he twisted a lock of his father's hair absently around his fist. He finally sighed. "All of them," he answered, his eyes drifting half closed again as he relaxed back into his father's arms.

"Do not forget that," said Bregolas absently.

Elrohir noted that while the oldest prince could not help but bait Elladan, his mind was clearly not on the conversation or the chess game. He sat to the side and slightly behind a pretty young elf named Nathlhê, where she worked at Elumeril's loom. The hour had long since passed when she should have left for her own home after tutoring the child, but Bregolas had asked her questions about her own work and invited her to stay and show him how she created the beautiful designs that had so impressed them all. It was clear to everyone, including the visitors to the woodland realm, that Bregolas's interest lay more in the weaver and less in the weaving.

Elrohir noted the gleam in his twin's eye and could feel Elladan's desire to tease the prince. Before Elladan could open his mouth, he elbowed him less than gently in the side. Elladan jerked away from him at the same time as he lifted his foot in surprise, and Elrohir laughed aloud as he realized Lathron had squashed his brother's foot. The indignant look on Elladan's face caused Lathron to laugh too, and many eyes in the room drifted to them.

"Tease Bregolas all you want, but do not include Nathlhê," warned Lathron in a barely audible voice. A grin spread across his face. "Clearly Bregolas is infatuated by her, but it is Elumeril's wrath you would face if you embarrassed her beloved teacher."

Elladan and Elrohir both looked at the young elleth sitting curled up at her father's side, both of her arms wrapped around his elbow and her face resting against him, just inches from Legolas's face. Elrohir decided she appeared harmless, but memories of Arwen at the same age, enraged over something he had long since forgotten, came to mind.

"Thranduil appears more likely to skin us alive than Adar was when we teased Arwen," whispered Elladan, remembering the same incident.

Even as Elladan spoke, the king's eyes drifted to them, flashing brightly as they passed over the twins, and Elrohir could feel the energy in the air about them. He shivered slightly, again amazed by the raw magical power he sensed emanating from the elven king. Thranduil gave him the barest of smiles, then effortlessly rose, a sleeping child on each arm.

"Too big to be carried, Ada," murmured Elumeril, but she made no move to be put down.

"My elflings need to be put to bed, but when I return, Elladan, I will challenge you in the next game," said Thranduil, his eyes now gleaming. "I hope you do not mind losing thrice in one night."

Elrohir had to admit to being extremely proud of his brother when Elladan sat up straight, meeting the king's eyes fearlessly. "My lord, you honor me with your challenge. I hope you do not mind losing to one of Elrond's progeny."

Thranduil laughed. "You are far more arrogant and cocky than Elrond ever was. Must be your grandmother's influence."

Elladan grinned. "I shall pass your sentiment along to the Lady Galadriel at our next visit."

Thranduil laughed again as he left the room, and Elrohir decided he did like the king of the woodland realm. Thranduil was a study in contrasts: between his power, as strong as metal forged in the fires of Mordor, and the tenderness in how he held his children, as fragile as tender shoots of new growth on a spring flower.

With a slight sigh, Elrohir moved to the outside patio and looked up at the clear view of the stars. Eärendil had just begun his night's journey, and Elrohir took joy and comfort that no matter where in Middle-earth he was, the constancy of that star reminded him he was still within reach of those he loved. He remembered being barely older than little Legolas when his father had told them the story of the father he did not remember, and how Elrond had held him and Elladan as they waved to their grandfather as he flew Vingilot through the night sky. As a familiar golden presence moved to stand next to him, he was reminded of Glorfindel telling them of meeting with a grown up Eärendil as he pledged his sword and his life to the keeping of Eärendil's own son. Elrohir was struck by how intertwined the lives of all these elves had become, and how he was related even to these wood elves and their king through his own Sindar blood.

The Imladris elves would leave for home in the morning. Elrohir felt the same bittersweet feeling he always felt when leaving friends to return to his cherished home. He had spent time at the Havens, with Círdan, and with his grandparents in Lothlorien, and in both places he had felt at home. The forest of Mirkwood, the home of the woodland king and his wood elves, had been, in the end, no less welcoming and he found he would miss these new friends that he had spent only scant days among. Yet, this had not been a planned visit, but a war party that had strayed far a field, and at home his parents and sister and others of their house would be waiting for their return, hoping they were unharmed. He did not doubt that other captains of Imladris were seeking their whereabouts and that they would be met long before they descended the High Pass into the hidden valley of their home.

"You are ready to return home," stated Glorfindel softly.

"I am," answered Elrohir, leaning into the warmth of Glorfindel's shoulder as they stood side by side. "A longer planned visit would be welcome, but Adar and Naneth worry when we are gone longer than expected."

"Athranen will meet us at the Anduin," predicted Glorfindel. He smiled into the darkness. "Tarag looked quite well when I saw him. The wound to his chest was healed and nearly gone, but he seems as if he would be content to stay here much longer, if needed."

"He seems to be in love," agreed Elrohir. "I would not be surprised if they plan to see each other again." He was silent for a long moment, then asked, "Glorfindel, do you regret not having married and raised your own children?"

Glorfindel was quiet for so long that Elrohir feared he had crossed a boundary in their friendship by asking so personal a question. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Glorfindel shook his head and motioned for Elrohir to allow him to speak.

"Do you?" asked Glorfindel instead.

Elrohir turned slightly to face Glorfindel, confused. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed as he pondered the question. Suddenly he understood why it had taken Glorfindel so long to answer. "I could only truly answer 'yes' if I had loved a maiden and lost her before being able to bond with her."

Glorfindel smiled at him. "Like you, I had to think about what you were really asking me, Elrohir. To regret means to wish I had done something differently than what I have done. I have not yet met a maiden I wished to bind myself to for all eternity, and thus I cannot regret not having done so. Do I wish I had experienced bonding and becoming a father? That is altogether another question. It would depend on what I would have had to give up to do that instead."

"What do you mean?"

"When the Valar gave me the opportunity to return to Middle-earth, it was to serve your father. If they had offered me the option of staying in Valinor, where I would meet a maiden, fall in love and raise children with her; or returning to Middle-earth, I still would have chosen to return to Middle-earth. If you were to ask me if I would have regretted that choice, had I been given it, I would say no."

"I had not realized how complex the question was, or how difficult to answer," murmured Elrohir. "I see Thranduil with his children, and how excited they all are for Rawien and Tathiel on the upcoming birth of their child, and I wondered if you regretted not having children."

"Have you noticed in the king's house all the people who care for Legolas?" asked Glorfindel.

"Yes," laughed Elrohir. "He seems to be a child of the realm rather than one father and mother."

"I do have children," replied Glorfindel. "Just as Legolas belongs to many within these walls, you and your siblings belonged to me and Erestor and others within Imladris."

Elrohir let his mind wander back to the years of his childhood, and thought of all the elves in Imladris who had taught him, looked after him and loved him. Unconsciously, he leaned into Glorfindel. "I am ready to go home."

* * *

Elladan studied the chessboard intently, hoping by sheer will he could force one of Thranduil's pieces to fall off the board. He saw only two potential moves for himself, and neither could lead to victory, only defeat. This game had now gone on for hours. Bregolas had walked Nathlhê home and then returned to watch, only to grow bored with the long periods of inactivity. He had gone to bed soon thereafter, followed by Lathron and Elrohir. Glorfindel lounged carelessly on the couch, his attention not anywhere in the room, but off in some waking dream. Elladan sighed inwardly. He did not want to lose to the wood elf king!

He chanced to look up at the king, to find Thranuil's eyes boring through him as if he were transparent, and he quickly looked away. He could feel those eyes resting on him, feel the amusement radiating from Thranduil at his expense, and he groaned silently. Just make the move and end it! he berated himself. The longer you wait, the more amused he becomes.

Glorfindel's yawning and rising interrupted his thoughts. The tall warrior stretched and folded a throw over the end of the couch, then straightened the cushions and pillows.

"Not about to give in, are you Elladan?" teased Glorfindel as he walked toward them. Suddenly, his foot came down upon a stray marble left behind from Legolas's games, and, caught off his guard, he slipped on the toy and crashed into the table, knocking the chessboard over and scattering the pieces across the floor.

"Glorfindel!" said Elladan, jumping up even as pawns and knights landed in his lap. "Are you injured?"

Glorfindel rolled slightly to sit upright, and picked up the glass marble. "Such a little thing, and so slippery! Nay, Elladan, only my pride is injured."

Elladan was gathering up the scattered chess figures, and as he rose to place a handful on the table, he noticed that Thranduil's and Glorfindel's eyes had met and both had grins on their faces. They seemed oblivious to his presence, so he continued retrieving the pieces, setting up the chessboard for a future game.

"And they say the Vanyar are so noble," scoffed Thranduil, but the grin never left his face. "I suppose some would consider that so. On your feet, captain!" With that, Thranduil stood and reached to pull Glorfindel to his feet. "Put your overgrown elfling to bed."

Glorfindel laughed and bowed to the king, then pushed Elladan gently from the room. As they left, Elladan heard the king hiss, "I won!"

Elladan knew the king had won, that he would have had to make the move that ended his chances. He turned and bowed cheekily, but before he could speak he felt Glorfindel clap a hand over his mouth and push him down the hall.

"Good night, Thranduil," said Glorfindel.

"Good night, Glorfindel," laughed the king.

* * *

Thranduil walked briskly down the stairs of the palace caverns to the elves gathered on the greens. The Imladris elves were again dressed in their patrol attire, now mended and cleaned, and their packs were filled with enough food to see them home. Glorfindel stepped forward as Thranduil approached, bowing slightly.

"Good morning, my lord," Glorfindel greeted him. "We appreciate the provisions you have provided, and the hospitality you have shown us."

"You are most welcome," responded Thranduil warmly. He looked over the assembled elves, winking at Elladan, who managed to blush faintly. Legolas sat atop Elrohir's shoulders, tugging on the ebony braids and laughing as Elrohir took him around to say goodbye to everyone. Thranduil saw Bregolas approaching from the stables, a long line of horses following, along with four other mounted warriors from the woodland realm. "Bregolas will escort you to the Anduin."

The elves parted as Bregolas led the horses through the small crowd, and Thranduil took pleasure in seeing the smiles of the Imladris warriors as the realization dawned on them that they would not need to walk home. They had arrived exhausted from running over the many miles they had chased the orcs, some injured, and Thranduil would see that they returned to Elrond in far better condition than when they arrived. He beckoned Elrond's sons to approach him.

"Elladan, you owe me a rematch, one held without Glorfindel in attendance," Thranduil informed him.

"Yes, my lord," agreed Elladan amiably. "Thank you for the care you showed us all, especially Tarag and Elrohir. My adar will be most appreciative."

"Elrohir, you are welcome to take almost anything from my kingdom that you desire, but this one must stay with me," said Thranduil as he held out his arms to Legolas.

Legolas giggled and wrapped his arms around Elrohir's head, teasing his father, but then kissed the top of the dark head. "Good bye, Elrohir. I am glad you came to visit us."

Elrohir pulled the elfling from his shoulders and hugged him tightly. "Good bye, elfling. Come visit Imladris some day and we will treat you to an adventure." Elrohir handed Legolas to the king and followed Thranduil as he stepped forward to speak to the rest of their group.

"Return home safely with the protection and guidance of the Valar. May your paths be safe and your travels merciful," he blessed them.

With that, the warriors mounted their horses, the Imladris elves flanked by their escort of Bregolas and his patrol.

Thranduil watched with Lathron and Legolas until the warriors were out of sight, and all of those who had come to see them off began to disperse. He finally set Legolas down, now that he knew there was no chance of losing the elfling amidst the warriors and horses. Legolas took his hand and one of Lathron's and skipped along between them.

"What do you have planned for today, Legolas?" asked Lathron as they walked towards the caverns.

Legolas kicked at a rock and then stopped, causing Thranduil and Lathron to stop with him. "I do not have any idea what to do!" he finally said. "Tracking and camping and ponies and orcs and visitors – it has been so exciting!"

"I know someone who could use your help this morning," came a voice from behind them. Legolas turned to look at Rawien, who continued, "Tathiel is making sweet seed cakes this morning, with extra honey."

"Yes!" cried Legolas. "May I go, Ada? I like it when Tathiel has cravings."

Thranduil laughed. "You may go, Legolas. Remember to announce your arrival in your indoor voice and no pouncing on Tathiel."

Legolas grinned at his father, then at Rawien. "I will only pounce on Rawien," he promised, and then he let go of Thranduil's hand, racing inside past the guards, whom he greeted by name, as he flew past.

"Elenath will be home in three days," Lathron reminded his father.

Thranduil looked north, closing his eyes as he focused on his bond with his oldest daughter. "She comes home with news, I think," he replied, looking closely at Lathron to gauge his reaction.

Lathron's face remained neutral, but as he caught his father's eyes upon him, his expression softened. "I think you are right," he agreed.

Thranduil led Lathron inside, to the Great Hall where other advisors were waiting. He had received one report out of Lathron's hearing in the early morning hours, a report about a young warrior named Gaelim who had captured the heart of his Elenath. The report was favorable, but he would withhold any judgment until he had met the elf himself. Gaelim would know before he left a private audience with the king how valuable a gift Thranduil felt Elenath had given him, and Thranduil would ensure he was worthy of it.

* * *

Elrohir knew exactly when he would be able to see Imladris as they passed over the mountains and began their descent into the valley. As expected, as they moved beyond a rock outcropping he saw smoke rising from one of the spires that disguised a chimney, and a moment later he could glimpse the house itself. The party seemed to speed up slightly in anticipation of being welcomed home.

Glorfindel had been right; Athranen had met them at the Anduin with extra horses and supplies, including litters and an array of medicines, in case they had injured. They had said goodbye to their wood elf escort and crossed the river to join their Imladris escort, and Elladan had joked that they would have to be late more often. Athranen had laughed, but his eyes had been seeking Elrohir. "Your adar believed you ill or injured," he had said.

"I am well now," Elrohir had reassured him.

Elrohir felt peace come over him as they came within the protected valley, and as they rode their horses up to the house and he saw his mother start down the steps to meet them, his heart rejoiced that he was home. He dismounted quickly, and drew Celebrían into his arms a moment later.

"Welcome home, Elrohir," she greeted him, kissing him on each cheek, tears glistening in her eyes. "I have missed you so."

"I have missed you and home," answered Elrohir as he brushed away her tears.

Celebrían released him to Arwen's arms, as she moved to greet Elladan and then Glorfindel. As he hugged his sister, Elrohir was certain that Celebrían was interrogating Glorfindel, and he smiled. His mother could indeed cut down the mightiest of warriors who stood between her and her children.

Elrond stood a short distance away, watching the warriors being greeted by family and friends. Elrohir knew those keen eyes were surveying all of them, and was unsurprised when he saw his father direct one of the healers who worked with him to intercept Tarag. He walked toward his father, into arms that stretched out to meet him.

Words of love were whispered in his ear, but the powerful arms that embraced him did more than welcome him home. He felt the healing touch of his father as those hands started with his face, moved down to his shoulders, ran down his arms to his hands, and then reached around to pull him close.

"You were injured," said Elrond softly.

"I am well now, Adar," he replied.

Elrohir had never been more aware of the power of his father than he was at that moment. He had known when he had entered the land protected by his father's power, for it felt as if time slowed and his heart became at peace within those borders. Accustomed since birth to the touch of his father, Elrohir was intimately familiar with the calm and healing that came with it, but today he dwelled on it, considered it, whereas normally he took it for granted. As he looked into his father's eyes, he suddenly realized what price such power cost him. For days he had known only that his son was injured in some way, and yet he had had to wait at home for news.

"I would not have waited at home if you needed me," said Elrond quietly, and Elrohir nearly jumped from his father's arms in surprise at his father knowing his thoughts. Elrond smoothed back his hair, and Elrohir felt a tingling sensation where he touched him. "Your wonder is very close to the surface of your mind."

Suddenly a healer appeared at Elrond's side. "I wish to examine you and Tarag. Wait for me in the healing rooms," instructed Elrond.

Elrohir sighed and laughed as he was led away. Apparently he was not well until his father said he was well. Erestor went to take his pack from him, as he always did, but Elrohir tugged it back. His father's chief advisor still tended to oversee Elrond's children as if they were elflings. He opened the pack, withdrawing a sheath of papers wrapped in oilcloth. He might as well show his father Camnesta's drawings and get it over with. One paper slipped free, landing on the ground near Erestor's feet. Erestor picked it up, looking from it to Elrohir, as worry filled his eyes.

Elrohir grimaced as he took the page from Erestor's hands. Of course, it was the first picture, where he looked as if he had been beaten and tortured. The look on Erestor's face told him that was what the advisor was thinking had happened.

"Orc poison made me bruise. I am well now," he said, wishing that look to leave Erestor's face.

"Do not let your mother see that," instructed Erestor firmly. "Otherwise, you will never leave the boundaries of Imladris again."

Elrohir nodded as he tucked the page back where it belonged. He felt his pack again being tugged from his hands and looked up to see Erestor again demanding he release it.

"It is a small enough thing to let me see to the packs of you and your brother and Glorfindel when you return from patrol," argued Erestor.

Elrohir had never imagined that Erestor liked doing this for them. He released the strap and shook his head. All of these introspective thoughts were making his head hurt. Suddenly he felt Erestor's arms around him, hugging him close for a moment.

"I am glad when you come home, elfling." When Elrohir's eyes opened in surprise at the use of Glorfindel's nickname for him, Erestor smiled. "Besides, if I don't take your packs, they end up forgotten on the floor, ripening by the minute. Go and wait for your father."

* * *

Elrohir and Elrond were the last to arrive in the family sitting room, where everyone had gathered to hear their story. Elrond had thoroughly examined Tarag and Elrohir, studying the pictures as he went. Tarag had joked with Elrond, demanding that a pretty she elf come sit with him if he were to be forced to lie on a bed for much longer, and Elrond had finally sent him on his way. Elrohir was less fortunate, for his father had decided to test his healing ability and his blood consistency, and thus he had been poked and prodded for some time after Tarag escaped.

Laughter met their ears as they entered the room, and Elrohir could hear Elladan telling about some of the wood elves they had met. Elrohir sat between his mother and Arwen, and a sudden vision of Thranduil sitting with Legolas and Elumeril came to mind. What had been a sweet vision in his memory suddenly seemed terribly lonely as he realized that those elflings were motherless. He felt tears spring to his eyes, unbidden, at the thought of what life would have been like had he not had his mother during his childhood.

"Whatever is the matter?" asked Arwen gently as she pulled him close.

Elrohir realized all eyes were upon him. He drew in a deep breath, and then relaxed against Arwen's comforting presence.

"I do not know why, but meeting and spending time with Thranduil and his wood elves has left a great impression on me," he admitted. "But what has caused this well of emotion was a memory of sitting with Thranduil's family our last night in their realm. Thranduil sat with his youngest daughter, a child perhaps a decade or so yet from adulthood, and his youngest son, an elfling of nine summers. Elumeril curled at his side and Legolas sprawled out on his chest – it was a lovely scene." Elrohir turned to his mother, reached for her hand and bringing it to his lips. "But that lovely scene was missing a mother. I am glad I have a mother to come home to."

Then they began their story, of chasing the orcs out of the mountains, of Elladan being shot in the trees by the orc scout, of following the enemy up the Anduin and crossing into the forest. Of the meeting with the wood elves, and how the orcs had died at their hands without the elves learning of what mission they were on. Of meeting little Legolas and being thrown to the ground, and then almost into the dungeons, only to learn it was a game.

"Glorfindel!" scolded Arwen. "How could you let them treat my brothers so?"

Glorfindel blushed under her attack, catching the pillow she threw at him in mock anger. "It was fun to watch," he admitted, laughing. "Although I did think they were playing along about the dungeons."

They spoke of the games and competitions they had played, Elladan telling most of that story, until everyone in the room had laughed until their sides hurt. Elrohir remained quiet through most of that part of the story, for none surpassed Elladan in telling a funny tale.

"But I realized how fortunate we are, and how much I take our life here for granted," said Elladan soberly as the laughter ended. "Shadow creeps ever closer, and no one strays far from the palace caverns unarmed. Thranduil wields a mighty power, but it does not keep all evil things away. And they do still suffer from the loss of their mother and queen."

Elrohir felt Arwen's hands pulling him into a more comfortable position, and realized he had nearly drifted into dreams while listening to everyone talk. Arwen slipped a pillow beneath his head on her lap, and Elrohir allowed himself to relax back into her comforting embrace. He was glad to be home.

The End.

Author's Note: Glorfindel never did find out what message the orcs were carrying north, but the year is TA 2469. The Tale of Years says in circa 2480 that orcs began to make secret strongholds in the Misty Mountains so as to bar all the passes into Eriador. In this story, I wrote it with the idea that the orc captain bore a copy of the plans for this campaign to block the Misty Mountains, north from Dol Guldur to the dens of orcs occupying the north lands. The plans were not delivered this time, but we know that eventually the plans did succeed. Of course, only a few years later, in 2509, Celebrían is waylaid by orcs in the Redhorn pass on her way to Lothlorien and receives a poisoned wound. Shadow thus touches Imladris, and Celebrían sails the following year.

This story was meant to be bittersweet. How many of us look upon someone grieving after terrible loss and ever thinks that we are next?

Thank you for reading, and especially to all those who commented. Your support is much appreciated.

Reviewer Responses:

Gwyn: I admit to rushing over and changing my stories to add the twins to the character list. About time the sons of Elrond got a little recognition! Now we just need them to add Thranduil.

Lutris: I am glad you liked the squirrel. They do like shiny things, as I can attest to by what they steal from my yard too. I wish I could communicate with them like the wood elves!

Firnsarnien: Sorry, but it is indeed over. But that just allows for imagination to kick in with some new ideas for future stories – after I finish History Lessons II though. Poor Elrohir is still injured on the banks of the Hoarwell and Celebrían is about to rip poor Erestor to shreds. Must get them together soon!

JastaElf: I did not mean for it to be bittersweet, but when you said you wanted the twins to meet little Legolas, it had to be before their own mother was captured. Thanks for the little plot bunny and I am glad you liked the end result.

Templa Otmena: Oh, I hope you like the HL series too – I do need to get back to that, although I love writing fluff like this in between.

Katie the Tigeress: Glad you liked it – I am in love with both families of elves, I admit.

Elrohir Lover: Poor Elrohir got beaten up by elves and the orc poison caused him to bruise terribly. Poor thing – good thing he was healed before he got home or Celebrían might have beaten up Glorfindel for knocking Elrohir to the floor like he did!

Starlit Hope: Sadron did need his nose ground in the dirt, I agree. But, he did handle it well!

Ancalimawen: Little Legolas is much like my own four year old nephew, only better behaved :D

Santoori: The baby elfling will have to wait for another story – those elven pregnancies last too long for this story! But I do think Legolas will like being a 'big brother'.