Disclaimer: I don't own this; please don't sue me.

When his father died, Thranduil was not sure he would be able to love children, if he had any, or rather, that he wouldn't be any good at it. He had been so deeply cut by the sudden loss of one that had been around for his very long life that he wasn't sure he would ever mend enough to fulfil the obligations of caring and nurturing a child. He had not realised that having the child was what would ultimately heal him.

Legolas turned nine a few weeks ago and he still could not believe how young that was, or maybe it was that he couldn't believe it was only nine years since the child came into his life and changed everything. Things were so different once he was born, and in such a wonderful way that Thranduil had a hard time remembering anything else as normal. Skipping out of trade meetings or ignoring some of his daily tasks as the king of his woodland realm to spend time with the boy had become more common than the work he should be doing, to the point that when his advisors needed him, they searched the usual haunts of the pair first.

Thranduil learned early on that the boy loved anything alive, especially if it moved and he could follow it around and even more if he could take it home to traumatise some poor Elf maiden within his halls. He often took him to a small loch where the sunshine was able to break through the thick trees and pierce the clear water to make it shimmer and multiply the light. Many beautiful things grew there, and many slimy things that would delight his son lived within the area. It was close to home if anything went awry, yet far enough away that it was theirs, and otherwise untouched. Legolas would run around and play, crawling into the tall reeds at the edge of the water in search of life until he tired of it and then find something else to do, and Thranduil watched him all the while from his perch on a large rock.

It was there that he found himself on a clear day in mid-spring, watching his son. He guessed that his face shone with adoration of the tiny youth, barely tall enough to hug his father's waist without stepping on the tips of his toes, and stick thin, as he had been at that age. His tiny arms and legs flew about as he played and chased a purple butterfly from flower to flower. When the creature stopped suddenly and sat still upon a petal, Thranduil's senses perked with curiosity to see what Legolas would do. He knew the boy loved to catch the frogs and other wildlife of the ground, but he had never had the opportunity to be so close with a butterfly, and Thranduil hoped he knew to be gentle if he tried anything. The butterfly was just as fragile as he was, at that age, and just as beautiful. His large blue eyes widened as he knelt next to the wild flowers and his sunshine-colored hair fell over his face. He looked a lot like his father, yet different in the most subtle ways. Where Thranduil's eyes were sharp and dark, Legolas' were softer and bright, though just as keen. As much as he had an eye for treasure, his heart was for his son, who was more worthy of his adoration than any rock the earth could offer.

Legolas was leaning in closer to the little butterfly very slowly, afraid to frighten it away, and putting forth all of his concentration. He stopped and held his breath as he got as close as he dared, and marveled at the beauty of the twin wings and delicate lines of the creature. He lifted one small hand slightly, but the butterfly flew away and his head snapped to follow it, bewitched by its grace and splendour. His attention was not held long, and he soon went back to hopping around the grass and picking up rocks that he fancied. There was a brief moment of terror for Thranduil's part when Legolas tripped over a vine and rolled several feet. He did not get up right away, and Thranduil immediately jumped to reach him but the boy suddenly stood up and dusted himself off before he got far. Legolas looked at his father and giggled a musical sound before saying, "I meant to do that." Thranduil sighed and took his seat again. The boy would be the end of him.

The afternoon passed slowly as Legolas trotted here and there over the paths and climbed trees. Thranduil could not help but laugh when he lost a shoe as he dangled from a high branch. Legolas shot him an indignant look as he slid down the trunk but giggled when he reached the forest floor and found his shoe and father apparently missing. He began to look around silently, peeking under bushes and other places that Thranduil could not hope to hide under, but quickly grew more frantic as he could not find him. His little legs moved faster and concern grew on his face when no sign of his father appeared. Just as the tears began welling up in his eyes, large arms encircled his waist and hoisted him high into the air. His sigh of relief was large enough that Thranduil realised it and turned him. When he saw the glistening eyes of his son, his face melted with apology and he pulled Legolas into a tight embrace.

"I did not mean to frighten you, little one," he said, slowly lowering his long body onto the soft grass beneath him. He crossed his legs and set Legolas upon his lap, still hugging him tightly. "Be at ease, everything is all right."

Legolas' voice was small and muffled by his father's tunic, which he grasped tightly with pale fingers. "I could not find you, I thought you went away."

"Have I ever gone away?"

For a moment, Legolas sat with a puzzled look on his face, which faded into happiness as he lifted his head to meet the eyes of Thranduil. "Never," he said proudly. "I have a good daddy."

Thranduil smiled and rubbed Legolas' back as they sat in the grass, listening to the water and the songbirds around them. He was content to remain there, unmoved, but the nagging voice in his head was still worrying about the fall he had witnessed and he silently looked the boy over for any evidence of injury. There was none. He was overreacting. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax against the strong trunk of a tree with his son leaning peacefully in his arms. His smile widened as he reflected on his fear of loving a child. It was an inane thought made by a grief-stricken Elf who did not truly understand life. He still did not fully understand life, or at least, the effect of one so small upon his. He often looked at Legolas and wondered if his father had thought of him the same way. Was he as terrified as Thranduil had been the first time he held Legolas? Had he worried needlessly in the middle of the night and found himself in his son's room just to make sure he was safe? Was he astounded that he was real? There were times that Thranduil had to touch the child just to remind himself that he was real, that he was not merely a blissful dream he had imagined in his loneliness.

He was stirred out of his reverie by a sudden poking in his chest and opened one eye to peer down at his son. Legolas smiled at him and ceased his poking. He smiled back and gave him a tickle, which launched the boy into several fits of giggling and squirming. Thranduil waited until he settled down and brushed stray hairs away from his face as he spoke softly, "Was something the matter?"

"I am well, but I would like to know why trees grow so tall," said Legolas in a very serious voice. His eyes were set firm and unmoving as he awaited a reply.

Thranduil chuckled and tucked a braid behind a tiny pointed ear. "Because they do," he said.

Legolas looked keenly at him, skepticism all over his face, "What sort of reason is that?"

"What sort of reason do you need," he countered. "Trees are tall, daisies are not, water is wet, fire is hot... Everything is something, but not necessarily for any reason other than their nature. I suppose we find purpose in things of such like, but it is probably not the intention of fire to warm our bath water or trees to shade our eyes."

"I think that is a good reason."

"I am pleased that you approve, Legolas."

"You are the wisest in all of Middle-earth, I think."

As much as he would have liked to, Thranduil could not stop the laugh that escaped his throat. Legolas stared at him, confused by his amusement with the compliment. He patted his head and hugged him again. "No, I am afraid I am not."

"I think so, no one else has told me why trees grow so tall and I have asked many of the Elves at home. They all say that they do not know, but you have answered me." His eyes were large with pride and adoration.

Thranduil smiled and held his arms out, opened wide for Legolas to crawl into a hug. He was rewarded by bony arms around his neck and a little face nuzzling its way into his shoulder. Legolas snuggled close to his father's chest as Thranduil stood up, holding him with one arm and dusting his own clothes with the other. "Are you hungry, little one?" Legolas nodded in response. "Well, then, let us go home and find something to eat, it is nearing later evening and you must still bathe before you go to bed." The boy seemed content with that and remained quiet until Thranduil lifted him to sit on his shoulders, which made him squeal with joy. He always loved the view from high places, which Thranduil assumed stemmed from his short measure.

Once back at the heart of their realm, they passed through the magical gates of Thranduil's palace and headed in search of a meal. Members of the court bowed and smiled at their handsome young king and his equally glorious little boy. They sat at a long wooden table and were served hot soup and warm breads. Thranduil had to stifle a giggle as Legolas made faces at the stuffy advisor who stepped between them to speak with his king for a moment.

When they were finished eating, Legolas went off with his nanny to be bathed and Thranduil sat in his study, trying to get some of the work before him finished. He could not stop smiling, nor could he stop himself from thinking about his darling little child, and he suspected the two were linked. He leaned back in his sturdy chair and stared at the ceiling. There really was a lot for him to be doing. He should really get to work. His face was staring to hurt from smiling. He laughed to himself, pulling his body forward and forcing himself to look at the paper in front of him. Ah, yes, a letter that should have been sent early that morning. He shrugged, reaching for his pen and ink. One day made very little difference, and he did not expect it would be such that Lord Elrond of Imladris would cancel their political alliances. As he began to write, he thought more about his day and how amazing the gift of life was. He had seen much death in his time, which was short by the measure of some, including the Elf he was writing to, but still long enough to see many loved ones leave him. His thoughts turned to darker times and he closed his eyes tightly to fight tears. He refused give into grief when he had all the joy he could ask for in his son. The thought of his squealing, playful little boy brought him out of his momentary stupor almost as fast as he had fallen into it and a smile found its way to his lips as he closed the letter. He gave it a brief look-over and sighed, it would have to do. Legolas would be arriving in his study shortly and he knew there would be no more work done after that point. It was, for the most part, a decent letter.

My Dear Lord Elrond,

Let me begin by apologising for the lateness of this letter; I have been quite lacking in my duties, of late, and it is all to blame on being blessed with the most darling child in Middle-earth. Instead of pouring over work at my desk, I spend my days romping through the woods with Legolas, or swimming in the river. I assure you I have no intention of stopping this sluggard behaviour, and suppose that our two realms must one day go to war over my lack of diplomacy. So, in keeping with the spirit of this paragraph, let me also apologise for that (in advance). I wish you much triumph in sacking my palace, and will leave the keys to the stronghold on the desk in my study.

Onward to real business, I assure you that our borders have been quite safe in the last weeks. Most of the problems that have arisen in this area come from within the forest, which is a growing concern of mine. The light leaves us more each year, and I toil greatly with this. Darkness grows from the deeper places and seeks to enter our realm, but has yet been unsuccessful. If Greenwood needs any kind of assistance at any point in the near future, I fear it will be in our own yard. Things, even on that front, have been rather quiet, though. If there is any need for our assistance in Imladris, we are very free to aid, and I will dispatch whatever you ask immediately.

I hope your family is doing well, please give them my best. I am nearly finished with the book you last brought me, and I would expect I shall be sending it back with my next correspondence, or bringing it back at my next visit- whichever occurs first. Legolas is growing itchy with the desire to travel, so perhaps the latter is more likely. What say you on this matter? He has not left this place since his birth, and I fear something terrible could happen on our road. At the same time, I do not want to dampen the experience with too many guards to smother him. Then, there is the matter of snatching him away from his nanny for that long: a task that could make Manwë recoil in fear.

It is growing late, and I must get this letter sent, so I bid you a fond farewell and eagerly await your response. May the stars shine ever brighter over Imladris skies and Elbereth bless you!

Thranduil

He rolled up the paper and tied a ribbon around it. Just as he stood to take it to the messenger, the door to his study opened and yellow-capped streak ran into him and giggled. Legolas smiled up at his father as he hugged his legs and made a face. Wet strands of hair clung to his face and dripped all over the floor, and Thranduil noticed that he wore only his shorts. It was not very long before his Nanny ran into the room, scolding the little boy for running half naked through the palace with water running off of his body and all over the stone floors. She pried him off of Thranduil's legs and threw a shirt over his head and a robe over his back. As quickly as she could, she curtsied before her king and wished them both a good night before exiting the room with a sigh on her breath. Legolas waited until she left before bursting into laughter and rolling around on the wet rug beneath him.

Thranduil sighed and pulled his son to his feet while stifling his own laughter. "I assume your bath went well?"

Legolas did not answer, instead, his head snapped up as if suddenly remembering something very important. He grinned and ran to a large wooden book case. It was a beautiful piece of furniture, with delicately carved leaf motifs and jeweled floral inserts that had survived centuries. Its beauty and exquisiteness was only damaged in one place, by several tiny scratches on its surface which started very low and got higher in a strange pattern. Legolas stood against the side of the case that bore the scratches and grinned widely.

"Legolas," said Thranduil, "We measured you last night."

"I am sure I have grown since then."

"You do not look it," sighed the king, who stood and pulled a small knife from his desk, despite his protests. Legolas was very eager to grow and insisted upon being measured every night before bed. He walked over to the little Elf and placed his hand on Legolas' shoulder. "Down," he said.

"What do you mean, Daddy?"

A knowing smile opened upon Thranduil's lips as he pressed the shoulder until Legolas was flat on his feet. "You were cheating. We cannot get an accurate measurement if you stand on the tips of your toes."

Legolas did not reply with more than an indignant look. He stood straight as Thranduil flattened his hair a little and looked at him. He still stood at the last line made, and would be devastated to learn the truth. He looked into the large blue eyes of his son and saw immeasurable hope. To Legolas, the most important thing in the world at that moment was to learn that he had grown a little, and he laid all of his heart into that belief. Thranduil could not dampen that kind of soul, and smiled at Legolas before carving a new line, barely above the old one. He carved the date in next to it and set the knife on his desk. "Well, it looks as though I was mistaken, little one!"

The little prince squealed and turned around to see a new mark with glittering eyes. He jumped up and down, absolutely thrilled with himself. "I knew it! I could feel that I was taller."

"Could you, really?" asked Thranduil with an unreadable smirk gracing his face. "That is very exciting indeed, however, it is time to get ready for bed."

Legolas nodded and grabbed his father's hand. Thranduil followed him as he skipped down the wide hallway toward his bedroom and smiled as wet hair flew side to side in time with the song the little one sang. Various Elves of the court and house staff stepped out of the way of Legolas' erratic dance and smiled. When they arrived in the chambers of his son, Thranduil pulled back the soft covers on his tiny bed and set the child upon it. He smiled as Legolas reached for the fabric-stuffed fox that he refused to rest without. It was gifted to him by Elrond, who was almost as bad about spoiling Legolas as himself. He hugged it tightly before reaching for his father and repeating the action. "Tell me a story, Daddy, please."

Thranduil smiled and laid him down so he could place the covers over him and nodded, "I will do that," he replied softly as he smoothed the blankets over the tiny body and brushed stray hairs from the sleepy face, "What would you like to hear?"

"Tell me about Grandpa."

A stab of pain struck Thranduil's heart and he barely hid his grief from the curious eyes before him. "That is a sad story, little one, not for bedtime."

"Please tell me about Grandpa," pleaded Legolas, widening his eyes and gnawing his lip as though he would burst into tears at any moment.

Thranduil sighed and ignored the pulling of his heartstrings as he settled into a comfortable sitting position on the side of Legolas' bed. Legolas would have to learn one day what befell his Grandfather, and he did not fear for the boy that it would upset him near as much as he feared for himself, but he deserved to know, and he would not drop it until all was said. "Years ago, there was a great dark force in Middle-earth, so evil and powerful that Elves alone could not destroy it and there was born a great Alliance of Elves and Men to vanquish the darkness forever from this world," he said in a soft voice, drifting into memory. Legolas' eyes were wide with curiosity. "Your grandfather fought in this Alliance, as did I and Elrond and many others of these times and greater."

Legolas gasped in astonishment and sat up sharply, "Daddy, you were in a battle! You were in a battle with Lord Elrond?"

"Settle, little one, or I shall not finish it," chided Thranduil, though he was glad for the interruption that brought him out of dark places in his mind. "Lie down, Legolas, I'm going to tell you the whole story now." The smaller Elf's compliance was astonishingly fast and Thranduil continued, "One day, there was a great battle, and in great battles of high importance, there is a large opportunity to make mistakes, but little hope of surviving them," he returned to a low voice and leaned on his side next to Legolas. "Your grandfather made such a mistake. The how or why is not as important as the outcome, which was catastrophic to our people. Many Elves fell, including...my father."

"He fell in battle?" Unshed tears wet the lashes of Legolas as he tugged Thranduil's tunic to pull him closer, sensing the hurt inside. "I am sorry, Daddy."

Thranduil smiled and patted Legolas' back as he curled into his lap. "Do not fret, little one. Shall I continue, or is it too frightening?" The lack of response told him to go on, so he picked up the story as he smoothed wet blonde hair beneath him, "It was a devastating loss, but many were in those days, and we pressed on, though we were near defeat. Many dark moments passed and the skies seemed to lose all light until the son of Elendil the Tall, a great king of Men, took up his sword and destroyed the Dark Lord. His minions fell beneath the swell of his power, and yet more of our own forces perished in flame. The evil was alleviated that day, but no more. Though it has diminished it will not be undone until his greatest tool is unmade and cast away forever. We failed to do that at our first chance, and someday, this world will yet again pay the price of its early ignorance."

Legolas' eyes were wide and full of more emotions than Thranduil could name. He was afraid that the child would be frightened, but he seemed more intrigued than anything else, and it seemed the boy was only clinging to him for his own sake. Silence hung in the air for some length before Legolas tilted his head up and met the eyes of his father. "Daddy," he whispered, "I will hold his memory always in honour."

A proud smile danced its way across the lips of Thranduil as he hugged and tucked Legolas back into bed. "As do I, little one." He bent to kiss Legolas' forehead lightly and patted his chest before standing and walking to the door. "Goodnight, Legolas. Rest well, my little leaf, and I will see you in the morning." He lightly closed the carven wood door behind him and leaned upon it, sighing heavily. He did not feel as emotionally drained as he would expect after reciting some of the tale of his father's last days, but there was an odd something going on within him. It had been going on everyday since Legolas' birth, and he supposed it would forever. He cracked the door slightly to peak in one last time before heading to his own dreams and saw dreamy eyes staring back at him. He smiled again and stepped lightly down the hall to his chambers. As dark as his life was before Legolas, it had grown ever brighter since he was born. The ashes of the past no longer stung his heart or threatened to steal his joy. They burned away into nothingness, as all pain had nine years previous on a sun-filled spring day in Greenwood, when the brightest star of the forest sky fell from the heavens and into his arms.