Note: This story takes place in two time periods: when Legolas is small and when he is not. The shifts between those periods should be fairly clear, but I wanted to warn you. Also, it is NOT Dagorlad that Thranduil is leaving for, as should be noted by his mention of it as a memory. He is going to aid forces in other areas with evil problems. Please review!

Disclaimer: Still don't own it.

Legolas squinted for a moment and smiled brightly. 'I can see the borders of the forest, Gimli. We are almost there!'

'I'm not so sure as you are about this journey,' Gimli said in his usual gruff voice, but Legolas detected a hint of nervousness that seemed unusual for his stout friend.

'Be at ease, Gimli; my home is far safer than most places we have been of late. Though, I see it has been greatly wounded since my departure. The work of Sauron leaves no place unscathed. . . .' Legolas frowned, but continued walking at a steady pace and spoke softly, 'Much hurt has been done to our beloved trees; that I can see from here. I wonder what else has befallen the woods.'

'Pardon me, my friend, but I had not heard that Mirkwood was so fine a place before the War.'

'Words of your father, no doubt,' sighed Legolas. 'Your people have never appreciated the woods as much as solid rock, so that is understandable, if a little ignorant. I trust that your visit will be more hospitable than his, since you are not trespassing.' Gimli uttered a mumbled reply, as he often did when he forgot that Legolas could still hear him. Still, the Elf ignored it and continued walking. It had been a very long time since he set out from Mirkwood, and for the first time since then, the world was calm enough that he felt he could indulge himself with feelings of homesickness. He missed the trees, and he missed the birds, but mostly he missed his father. No doubt, the king had not been idle, but he knew that his father had probably spent a good amount of time worrying and hoping that he would come home soon. A smile found its way to Legolas' face as he remembered the day he awoke to the sounds of trumpets and singing from far off and, from the first moment, he had known it meant his father was coming home. . .

Legolas ran through the halls of the Greenwood palace as he laced up his shirt and buckled his belt. Advisors to his father trailed behind him, hopeless in their efforts to catch him. He ducked away from a long pair of arms threatening to scoop him up and ran through the legs of another Elf, and he continued to dodge such attempts to pick him up until he made it to the gates, which were already wide open as people gathered. Once he made it through the crowd, there was no stopping him, and he sprinted down the path toward the bright green banner he saw through the trees. He made it to a clearing and squinted through the sunlight that filtered through the trees, searching for his father. His keen eyes were rewarded with the site of Thranduil glittering in his armour atop his bright horse. 'Daddy!' he shouted over the trumpets, 'Daddy! Daddy I'm here!' Thranduil's sharp ears picked up the squeals of his son, and he rode ahead of his company just enough to come to Legolas. He leaned over and used his long arms to scoop Legolas up from the ground and onto his shoulders. The elfling giggled and squealed and hugged his father's head. One of the trailing heralds rode up and grinned at Legolas. His eyes were of blue steel, and his hair shone like mithril. He passed the banner to Legolas, whose eyes went wide with adoration as he wrapped his tiny hands around the pole and waved it in the air. It was heavy, but with the help of Thranduil he was able to carry it, and he was proud.

'I must say that it fails to look any more welcoming up close than it did from far off,' grumped Gimli, and Legolas was startled from memory. He smiled at the Dwarf and looked with complete joy at the outer wall of trees that stood tall and beautiful in front of them.

'I would think that you had learned your lesson about speaking ill of trees,' he said. 'Come! Let us enter the forest and make for the gates.'

They walked quickly, much faster than Gimli would have liked, and before long they made it to the magic gates of Thranduil. Gimli was awestruck by the beauty and intricacies of the metal and its jeweled inlays. Legolas called out in the tongue of his people and they began to open, and Gimli was too impressed to hide it any longer. 'Such fine craftsmanship!'

Legolas laughed and ran through to embrace the first Elf he saw: a sentry whom he had known for his entire life. The familiar steel-coloured eyes and silver hair brought Legolas into a state of immeasurable joy as they hugged and then looked at each other. They had traveled together to Rivendell at the behest of Thranduil, but he had not returned, and it filled his heart with joy to see that his friend had. The sentry laughed and roughed Legolas' hair up a bit, 'Why, the last time I saw you this excited you were atop the shoulders of your father and waving our banner!'

The merriment caught the attention of several other elves who, when they saw their prince, ran and hugged him, each brimming with delight to see that he had returned in one piece. Gimli seemed to have been forgotten for a time as the elves congregated around him until the sentry noticed him and looked to Legolas for explanation. The elvenprince smiled and bowed deeply. 'Please pardon my rudeness! This is Master Gimli, Gloin's son, of Durin's folk. He has been my friend through many trials, and we have decided to travel together. You all may remember his father: the short one with the red beard, from so many years ago?'

'Legolas! They're all short with red beards!' laughed one of the elves, but it was clearly a friendly jab, and Gimli gave a gruff laugh.

'You might say the same for yourself, Master Elf! For I have seen few elves of late that differ in appearance. I believe outside of the House of Elrond you are all a lot of tall blondies!'

The same elf laughed heartily and smiled brightly, 'You've seen many elves, then? Tell us who and where, for contact has been difficult of recent times, and we desire to know of our kin. Please, Master Dwarf, won't you come inside and refresh yourself, and then give us some news?'

Gimli bowed low and smiled, 'I shall do so, Master Elf, for friends of Legolas are friends of mine, and I would be an ill friend were I to ignore your request and hospitality.'

The sentry chuckled merrily and led them forward, 'And we shall listen with delight!' The company of elves followed with Legolas and Gimli at the second lead. They walked through a grassy courtyard and under the brilliant light of coloured lanterns, laughing merrily all the way until a fast hush fell upon them. The king stood in their path; he was dressed in a silken green tunic embroidered with vines of purple and silver flowers with bright leaves and brown leggings that tucked into his tall green shoes. His hair was bright as sunshine and soft as velvet, and it fell in waves and braids crested with a crown of leaves the colour of his eyes, and it seemed that his stare encompassed their whole lot, but it was focused entirely on one person: Legolas. The prince stood still for a moment, almost unable to believe that he was really home, that he was truly seeing his father. Thranduil smiled and lifted his arms as Legolas ran to him, and the embrace they shared softened the hearts of all who witnessed it.

Thranduil held his son tightly and smiled into the pale hair that fell over sharp shoulders and a strong back. He was past three thousand years, but something about him was still small, though Thranduil could not say what. Legolas was just shy of his father's height, and he was only a small amount slighter, but it felt as though he was still the little elfling who was too short to hug him around the waist, and whose hair grew faster than he did. The urge to look at his son completely was strong, and after a few moments he could no longer resist it. He held Legolas at arms length and gripped his shoulders, which felt harder and stronger than before; he noted that Legolas' face was still bright and beautiful, but he could imagine all sorts of hurts that must have crossed it since he last saw him. He also noticed the change of bow and quiver, and suspected there was a story behind that, and he longed to hear it and many others, especially about the Dwarf that had not escaped his notice. But more important was his son, and that his son was finally home. He smiled and brought his hands to Legolas' face, 'You are home.'

Legolas smiled back and gripped his father's forearms. The fabric of his shirt was soft, and the prince's heart leapt at the familiar feel after so many months of hard and sharp. 'I am home,' he said.

'That is good tidings,' said Thranduil, and he pulled Legolas' face close to kiss his forehead as he had done throughout his son's entire life any time that he left, or upon his return. He lingered for a moment and then pulled Legolas' face up so that their eyes met. Thranduil smiled and patted the soft cheeks of his son, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned them to face the others. 'I believe I heard something about storytelling, or was I mistaken?'

The sentry grinned and bowed before his king, then placed a hand on the stout shoulders of Gimli and said, 'The Elf-friend Gimli, son of Gloin has been so kind as to enlighten us about our kin, and other happenings in the world that we had not heard.'

Gimli shocked even Legolas when he not only bowed, but lowered himself to one knee before Thranduil and removed his helmet. 'I would be honoured if you joined us, good King Thranduil.'

Thranduil's eyebrows arose with his lips as he smiled and bowed impressively to Gimli, whom he told to arise. 'The honour will be entirely mine, Master Dwarf! Come, let us retire to the dining hall and prepare for an evening of merriment!'

'Here, here!' shouted the growing crowd, and they all did as their king suggested and made for the dining hall, which was already being set for a feast. Gimli marveled at the glittering walls and their glowing detail, and he felt comfortable. Elves came and attended to him, offering him a chance to bathe and a fresh change of clothes, though there was little in their realm that was suitable for a Dwarf. The best and fastest tailors in Mirkwood did their work as he refreshed and, by the time he was finished, robes donated by Thranduil himself had been altered to fit his honoured guest.

Several elves gathered then to honour the homecoming of their prince and his guest, and the table was filled with good things in food and drink. Thranduil sat in a tall chair at the head of the table; next to him on either side were Legolas and Gimli, and many elves followed down the line. It did not take long for Gimli to begin his tales; he first started with the Fellowship and then, to the horror of most of the table, he told of Moria and the Balrog. Thranduil stared intently at his son as that story was told, and he noticed the slightest shift in Legolas' face as it was recalled to him. It was quickly replaced with a smile as Gimli told the beauty of Galadriel and his great love for her, and the gift she gave him. The elves listened ever closely as he recited the deeds of Saruman and the Uruk-hai, and the chase given by himself, Legolas and Aragorn to save their Hobbit friends. They erupted in applause when he reached the climax of that thread and told them of the Ents' victory over Isengard.

Throughout the evening, Thranduil stared most at his son, and he was filled with pride. There were no words for what he felt; there was nothing he could say to Legolas that would properly convey his love, respect or even gratitude at the sacrifices he and his friends made for Middle-earth. His heart wept for the innocence he imagined was lost, but it warmed itself with adoration and joy at his homecoming. The look in Legolas' eyes as he smiled at his father told Thranduil that most of his son was still there; he was stronger and better at hiding it, but it was still there. He was still the little elfling with more love for his home and his father than he knew what to do with, he just showed it in a different way, and Thranduil could not be more in awe. He had been through many battles and seen many comrades fall, but none so grievous or terrible as Legolas had, and still the boy came back full of light; his brightness was not dimmed, even in the lamplight of the palace. Next to Thranduil sat a great warrior, but more than anything else, Legolas was and would forever be his son, and no amount of time away would change that, whatever the circumstances. For the first time since Legolas was born, Thranduil felt that he could let go of him without worrying that he was abandoning him, or fearing his loss. Legolas' presence reminded him of something he told his son the first time he was forced to leave him for the call of duty: that as long as he was in his heart, there would be breath in his body. No amount of fear could replace love and trust in Legolas to survive and come home, and it seemed for the first time in a long time that he truly understood those words. No matter how far Legolas journeyed, or how long he stayed away, he would always be in Thranduil's heart, and the king could accept that.