Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this story.

This is set in the world of May the Valar Protect Them, Journey’s End, and Hunting. Legolas is 12 years old in this story, so picture a precocious 5 year old human.  As a reminder of some of the characters: Tathiel is the elf who saved Legolas’s life in MTVPT after his mother was killed; Rawien is her husband, and their child is Emlin.  Tinánia and Eärundra are the sisters who were taken captive with Legolas in MTVPT.  Ethiwen and Urithral are their parents. Bregolas, Lathron and Celebrinduil are Legolas’s brothers, and Elumeril and Elenath are his sisters.   

This story is dedicated to Karri, who is not only wonderfully creative as a writer, but is always seeking to inspire others as the keeper of the Little Legolas Bunny Hutch (although, she has many hutches – can’t figure out how she manages to feed all these critters…).  This story is 5 chapters, it is complete, and was written in response to the child lost in a blizzard, first crush, and a Middle-earth Santa challenges that Karri set up on the flufflings board a long, long time ago.

Chapter 1: New Friends

Legolas skipped down the corridor, basket in hand, and knocked once on Tathiel’s door before pushing through it. 

“Leg’las!” cried Emlin.

Legolas caught the toddler as she flung herself at him, and lifted her into his arms and kissed her as she wrapped her arms about his neck.  “Tweet, tweet,” he answered her as he gently tugged on her golden braid, teasing her about her name for she flitted about like a little yellow bird at times.

Emlin giggled and then wriggled until he released her.  She slid to the ground and ran to the cushion where her cloak was neatly folded.  As she carefully put it on, she asked, “Did you remember your cloak today?”

Legolas grinned at her.  “I do not need a cloak.  The cold does not affect me.”

“Nana says you need a cloak,” Emlin reminded him as she ran to the door of their sleeping chamber.  “Nana!  Leg’las is here! We can go ‘cept Leg’las says he doesn’t need a cloak!”

As Tathiel walked through the door, Legolas yanked his cloak from the basket where he had stuffed it and pulled it over his head.  He felt Tathiel adjusting it and then she kissed him as he freed his face. “I see Legolas has suddenly found his cloak, Emlin.  I think he was teasing you.”

Legolas grinned at Tathiel as Emlin slipped her hand into his. “Leg’las always teases, Nana,” answered Emlin. “But he has his cloak and so now we can go!”

“I have packed us a lunch and some pencils and parchment so we can draw today,” answered Tathiel as she fastened her own cloak about her neck.   She looked them both over, ensuring shoes were on, cloaks were fastened, and baskets were ready.  “I am glad to have my helpers today, for Camnesta has given me quite a long list of fall roots and herbs that he needs.”

Emlin twirled, sending her cloak and skirt spinning around her, and danced to the door.  “Come, Nana!  Come, Leg’las!”

Tathiel took Emlin by one hand, and Legolas caught the other, and they walked out of the palace and past the guards.

“Good morning, Mistress Tathiel!” called the guard, bowing as they passed. He then took note of the children, and bowed to them as well.  “Master Legolas and Mistress Emlin. Will you bring me a flower today, Emlin?”

“Yes!” cried Emlin as she twirled in front of the guard.

“Good morning, Hador,” replied Tathiel. “We are going north along the river.  We will be home before evening meal.”

“Aye, Tathiel,” replied the guard. “It is a fine day to gather herbs.”

Legolas had stopped by the other guard, Magor, who each day pulled a bead from Legolas’s ear, or found one in the palm of his hand, and one day even made a ribbon appear in his hair by some sort of magic.  “Please, Magor, teach me to do it?” he begged, as the elf found several beads in his ear.

“You must pay more attention in your bath, Master Legolas,” teased Magor as he held out the handful of beads. “Look how they have accumulated!”

“Magor!” exclaimed Legolas, when the guard ignored his question.

“Perhaps,” replied Magor, giving in slightly, “but on a day when I am not on duty, my young prince. I do not wish to find trouble with my commander.”

Legolas grinned, knowing that Bregolas was the commander of the warriors. “I will see that he is fair with you,” he promised.

Magor clasped his hand in the warrior way, and then sent him on his way.  He caught up to Tathiel and Emlin, taking Emlin’s hand, and they walked along the river path that headed northwest away from the palace.  Legolas hummed as he walked along, glad that they would spend all day outdoors.  Tathiel had often taken him hunting for roots and herbs that the healers needed, except during the year when she carried Emlin in her belly and was so tired, and then the next year they had never gone far, for Emlin had not been walking in the spring and had not been able to walk far in the fall.  Legolas glanced down at the golden haired toddler skipping along next to him.  Emlin was a fun playmate most of the time, but she was still too small to play some games.

“We will begin here,” said Tathiel, setting her basket down.  She spread out a blanket for Emlin and Legolas to sit on, then laid out their parchment and pencils.  Showing Legolas the first plant, she had him write the name of it and describe it.  “Now you draw it, while I dig up the roots we need.”

Legolas spent the morning helping Tathiel dig roots, and then drawing all the plants she set aside for him, while Emlin contentedly drew pictures of anything she desired.  They ate lunch, and Emlin napped on the blanket while Legolas helped Tathiel sort all the remaining roots in the basket.  He had just returned to his parchment, so intent on drawing the veined leaves of one particularly unique plant and trying to make sure he had the right number of marks for that size leaf, for Tathiel said that was important for knowing if the roots were aged enough to take, that the sound of voices took him by surprise.

“Hello.”

Legolas looked up to see two young elf boys, both bigger than him but not by that much. He had never seen them before.  The taller of the two had almost black hair, which he wore pulled back from his face with two small braids, but loose down his back.  His eyes were dark too, and did not twinkle, but he seemed surprised and interested to see them.  The shorter of the two ellon was brown haired, his hair flowing free so that the wind kept blowing strands into his face, which he would brush repeatedly away from his eyes and mouth.   He was smiling, though. Their trousers were already a little dirty from their play.

“Hello,” answered Legolas.

“Hello,” chimed Emlin.

The children all looked at each other for a moment, Legolas almost too surprised to speak, for the children nearest his age that he knew were Eärundra and Elumeril, and he thought of them as almost grown up.

“What are you doing?” asked the black haired ellon.

“Digging for roots for the healers,” answered Legolas. “Though, I am drawing them as part of my lessons.”

The brown haired ellon leaned closer to look at the parchment, then he looked at Emlin’s drawing. “Yours is better than hers,” he finally said.

“Leg’las draws good,” agreed Emlin amiably.

“I am much older than Emlin,” Legolas defended her. “She draws very well for an elleth her age.” He rose to his feet, stepping between the ellyn and Emlin. Both were taller than he was, and he had to look up a little to look into their eyes. “I am Legolas.  What are your names?”

“I am Abronwë,” said the taller ellon, his voice strong and firm. “This is my seventeeth summer, and I have my own knife.”

“I am Narthan,” said the smaller ellon, his voice sweeter and kinder. “I have fifteen summers and I cannot take my knife from the cottage unless my adar or naneth is with me.”

Abronwë sniffed a little disdainfully at Narthan’s words, and Legolas decided he was not sure he liked him. He had been hoping for a sword or knife since he was very small, and he still did not have either. He nodded sympathetically at Narthan.

“How old are you?” asked Abronwë.

Legolas hesitated slightly, though he was not sure why.  He lifted his chin high. “I am twelve summers and Emlin is two summers.”

“Hello Abronwë and Narthan,” said Tathiel, as she rose from where she was digging roots behind a nearby tree.   Legolas almost laughed as both ellyn jumped, for they had not known she was there. Both children immediately smiled and bowed to her, as was proper.

“We are going to play rock and acorn. Do you want to play with us?” asked Narthan, looking at Legolas.  He quickly turned to look at Emlin, who had jumped to her feet. “Not you.  You are an elleth and too small.”

Legolas had been about to ask Tathiel if he could go, but now he looked down to see Emlin looking up at him with tears in her eyes.  “Emlin,” he began, looking from her to the ellyn, torn over wanting to play with them but not wanting to hurt Emlin.

“You may go, Legolas, but do not stray where you cannot hear me call you,” said Tathiel as she reached down to swing her daughter up into her arms.

“No, Nana!  Leg’las play with me!” cried Emlin, and she pushed away from Tathiel, as if to jump to the ground and follow the ellyn.

“Emlin, I will be back later,” cajoled Legolas.  When Tathiel motioned for him to go, he turned and ran to join Abronwë and Narthan, the sound of Emlin’s sobs fading as they made their way to a clearing where the young elves had been playing. Legolas saw the circles already set up, and he quickly began scouring the ground for rocks and acorns he could use, as his small bag was at home.

“I get to go first, then Narthan, then you,” Abronwë informed him as he dropped to the ground and assembled the acorns into a row on a flat rock. 

Legolas waited patiently while Abronwë took his first throw, knocking over two acorns with one stone.  Narthan knocked over one, and then Legolas lined up for his shot.  He eyed the acorns carefully, then flicked his wrist as he threw the stone, putting a slight spin on it, as Bregolas had taught him.  Two acorns were knocked flying off the rock, and another wobbled but did not fall. He could not help but shout at his success, and then he turned back to face his new friends.   Narthan cheered for him, but Abronwë was silent.

“Where did you learn to do that?” demanded Abronwë.

“My brother taught me,” replied Legolas gleefully.  “But that is the first time it has worked that well!”

“Show me how!” said Narthan, and Legolas showed him how to hold the rock and then flick his wrist.  Narthan’s rock went askew, but Legolas’s rock knocked down two more acorns.

“It was my turn,” said Abronwë pointedly.  He set up the two acorns that Legolas had just knocked over and then returned to the throwing spot.  He paused, and then said, “Show me how to do it.”

Legolas showed Abronwë, who immediately prospered by knocking three acorns over with one throw.  “Ai! You did it!” cried Legolas excitedly.  “I have never knocked over three.”

Abronwë laughed and smiled, and Legolas noticed that his eyes twinkled.  They finished that game and played two more, with Abronwë winning all three, but Legolas did not care.  He could not remember ever having that much fun playing before.

“Legolas, come!”

Legolas turned at the sound of Tathiel’s voice, then looked back at his friends.  “I have to go. Goodbye!” he called.

“Wait!” said Narthan.  “Are you going to play with us tomorrow?”

“I will ask my adar,” replied Legolas.  “Will you be here?”

“Meet us at the bridge after morning meal, if you can come,” replied Abronwë.

Legolas nodded.  “Goodbye!” he called, and then he ran to join Tathiel and Emlin.

* * *

“Tathiel, I showed them both how to spin the rock so that it knocked down more acorns, and Abronwë could do it.  I liked playing with them,” said Legolas as he ran to grab his basket. He scooped it up off the ground, careful not to spill what Tathiel had carefully packed in it. “They asked if I could play again tomorrow.”

“You will need to ask your adar, but I think he will be glad that you have found some friends near your age,” replied Tathiel, as she shifted Emlin in her arms.  Once her shawl was snugly tied, holding her daughter against her, she was able to easily carry the baskets.  “What will you play tomorrow, if your adar gives his permission for you to go?”

“I do not know,” answered Legolas. “I bet they know lots of things we can do.”

Tathiel smiled as Legolas skipped along in front of her, listening as he made a song about his day of play.  As sad as Emlin was over the loss of her adored Legolas for the afternoon, Tathiel was glad Legolas had had the opportunity to play with other children. He spent much of his time with adults or much older children, and Emlin, whom he treated like a little sister.   While she found Abronwë tough on the outside, she had immediately liked Narthan.  She would give Abronwë time, and learn more about him.

“Lathron!” Tathiel heard Legolas calling his brother’s name, and looked ahead to see Lathron walking to them.   Legolas began to run to him, and Tathiel could hear him telling Lathron in a breathless, excited voice, about his two new friends.  As Tathiel joined them, Lathron took the baskets from her and they continued to walk to the palace, listening to Legolas chatter all the way. The guards welcomed them back, grinning enthusiastically at Legolas’s news of new friends.

Lathron carried the baskets into her chambers, setting them on a table in the middle of the room.  He pulled Legolas back against him, resting his hands on Legolas’s shoulders and lightly tapping Legolas on the cheek.  “Bregolas will teach me more tricks,” finished Legolas with a flourish of his hands, knowing the signal to cease.

“Bregolas is full of tricks,” agreed Lathron with a smile. “Now it is time for you to come clean up for dinner. Will you be joining us, Tathiel?”

Tathiel glanced down at her soundly sleeping daughter, tired out from a day of fresh air and play. “No, thank you, Lathron.  I do not think Emlin will wake up.”

“Cook will send up something for you,” replied Lathron, one eyebrow arching when Tathiel would have argued that she could make her own meal.  She demurred, knowing better than to argue with this one of the king’s sons.  When Rawien was off on the business of the king, the king saw to it that Tathiel and Emlin were well looked after.

She bent down to kiss Legolas on the forehead.  “I will see you tomorrow, Legolas.”

Legolas reached up to hug her and kiss Emlin on the cheek, and she felt pride stir deep inside her at this sweet child that she still thought of as partially hers.  As she often did, she thought of how blessed she was that the king and his family still shared him with her, and indeed, included her and her family as part of their own.

* * *

“Please, Ada, may I go?” finished Legolas, bouncing on his bed as Thranduil attempted to draw back the covers to tuck him in. Thranduil finally scooped the bouncing child off his feet, swept back the blankets, and plopped Legolas down on his pillow. “That was fun!  Do it again!” cried Legolas. He was starting to scramble to his feet when Thranduil pulled the blankets over his head.

“It is time to sleep, my exuberant one,” he answered. “You may play with your new friends tomorrow, as long as Tathiel knows where you are and you come home when she calls for you.”

Legolas pushed the blankets down and grinned up at him. Thranduil could not help but smile at the enthusiasm embodied before him, and he was glad to see his youngest child so happy.

“I wonder if they will come to the Mid-winter feast,” said Legolas as he yawned, his day catching up with him. “We could make a team in the hunt for treasures afterward, and I could help them because I know where all the best hiding places are in the Great Hall.”

Thranduil watched as his blonde whirlwind settled quickly into sleep, eyes half closed and breathing deep and even, and he marveled as he always did at the years of childhood, when the cares and excitement of the day were so easily born and so easily cast aside in favor of a contented night’s sleep.  Putting his children to bed had long been one of his favorite times of the day, a privilege of fatherhood that he had exercised with every child from Bregolas to Legolas.  Narawen had awakened them and helped them to start their day, and she had spent time with them in the evening, but he had tucked them into their beds, listened to them talk about their days, told them stories and sung them songs, and finally watched them drift into sleep. Even then he sat a while longer, holding each little one in his thoughts as he pondered his hopes for their present and their future.  During the years of Legolas’s absence, he had come often to this little room and sat beside his bed, his hopes for his son’s safe return the deepest cry of his soul, lifted up to the Valar and to Eru himself.

He stroked his son’s head one last time, and leaned over to kiss his forehead. Then he walked to the room on the other side of his own, where Elumeril waited for him, ready to tell him about her day and her rising excitement for her sister Elenath’s wedding, planned for the coming spring.

The only mar to his happiness was that Narawen was not there with them.

* * *

Legolas waved to Tathiel and Emlin as he ran to the bridge, glad that Emlin had not cried when he left this time.  He could see Abronwë and Narthan sitting on the rocks just beyond the wooden bridge, skipping stones into the river.  They rose as he ran to join them.

“We were just ready to leave without you,” said Abronwë.

“We thought your adar would not let you come,” advised Narthan.

“He said I could come,” Legolas corrected them happily.  “What will we play today?”

“We want to see your pony,” said Narthan suddenly.

Legolas looked carefully from one ellon to the other. “I do not have permission to go to the stables,” he finally said.

“Why did you not tell us that your father is the king?” asked Abronwë abruptly.

Legolas took a step backward, momentarily confused.  “You did not ask me,” he finally answered.  He thought Abronwë’s face was suddenly unfriendly and he turned to look at Narthan instead.  Narthan seemed less unfriendly. “Does that matter?” he asked softly.

Narthan looked at Abronwë, but Abronwë did not answer. He turned back to Legolas.  “Not to me.  Let’s go to the river and throw stones.”

Legolas fell into step with Narthan, who began to whistle cheerfully, and he felt better.  Abronwë joined them reluctantly, but he did not say anything more.  They came to a spot on the river that Legolas had visited before, for Celebrinduil had taught him to skip stones there.  Legolas and Narthan quickly began searching for good skipping stones. Abronwë had several in his pocket already, and he pulled one out and got three skips out of it as it flew across the water.

“That was good!” cheered Legolas.  He waited while Narthan found a good stone, and threw second, also getting three skips.  Legolas then stepped forward, fitting the stone between his thumb and first finger, and setting a slight spin on it as he sent it flying out over the water.  He cheered for himself as he also got three skips.

“Did your brother also teach you to skip stones?” asked Abronwë.

Legolas nodded.  “Celebrinduil taught me to skip stones.”

“How many brothers do you have?” asked Narthan.

“Three,” replied Legolas absently as he searched for another stone.  “Bregolas, Lathron and Celebrinduil.”

“You forgot Alagos,” said Abronwë snidely.

Legolas straightened, his brow furrowing as he looked at his friend.  “Alagos too, but he is in Mandos’ Hall.”

“With your naneth,” added Abronwë.

Legolas stood up straight, an uncomfortable feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.  He did not understand why Abronwë wanted to know so much about his family, or why he was bringing up his dead brother and mother. “Yes, with my naneth,” he finally answered cautiously.  He suddenly wished he were home.

“I am sorry you do not have a naneth,” added Narthan kindly.  “My grandfather is in Mandos’ Halls too.”

“I have Tathiel,” replied Legolas, when both ellyn waited for him to speak. “And I have my sisters.”

“Your mother died on the day you were born, and so did your brother,” said Abronwë. “My naneth says they would not have died if you had not been born that day.”

Legolas felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach.  He hurt and he couldn’t breathe, and he didn’t know why Abronwë was talking about this.  He knew the story of that day. He knew it made his adar very sad to talk about it.

“I was not born on purpose!” he cried out angrily, unsure why he was angry and not understanding what Abronwë was saying. He threw his rock to the ground, his hands trembling and he squeezed his fingers into fists to stop them.

Narthan’s eyes had widened in surprise, but Abronwë laughed. “My naneth said that your naneth the queen should not have been traveling when she was carrying you anyway.  They died and you were taken away and the warriors had to spend years searching for you.”

Legolas felt hot tears sting his eyes and begin to slip down his cheeks.  He brushed them away when Abronwë laughed and said, “Do not be a baby.  It does not matter anyway.”

“I have to go home,” choked Legolas.  “Goodbye, Narthan.  Goodbye, Abronwë.”  He turned on his heel and ran back towards the palace.

 * * * * *

Chapter 2: Who Is Your Nana?

Magor watched Legolas trudge slowly up the path to the doors of the palace, his head bowed and his feet shuffling on the path with an uncharacteristic lack of grace. His greeting died on his lips as the small form passed by them without a hello or even a smile.  He was sure he saw tears running down the elfling’s cheek, but the child had pulled up his hood to hide his face.

“Legolas?” he asked gently.  But Legolas only sniffed and walked on.

“I think the sun has just hidden behind the darkest cloud,” he lamented to Hador, who nodded his agreement.

Thranduil saw his youngest child from the end of the hall, where he was about to enter the family dining area.  He waited for Legolas to look up and see him, but the child kept his eyes fixed on his feet. Moving so that Legolas would either run into him or have to move around him, he watched as Legolas did not miss a step, but walked right to him and flung his arms about his knees. He could feel his child’s distress. Reaching down, he lifted Legolas into his arms and pushed the hood of his cloak from his head.

“Legolas, whatever is wrong?”

No answer was forthcoming.  Legolas merely clung to him soundlessly. Thranduil felt a slight tug as a braid of his hair was slowly wound around Legolas’s fist; something his son seldom did now unless he was feeling insecure or sad. Knowing that Legolas had been playing with his new friends, he directed his questioning to them. “Did something happen at play today, Legolas?”

“Yes,” came the answer, barely audible and very sad.

“Would you tell me about it?” coaxed Thranduil.

“Everyone but me has a nana,” answered Legolas finally, his voice muffled in Thranduil’s tunic.

“I am glad that the other children have nanas, Legolas,” answered Thranduil calmly. “I wish your nana could still be here with us.”

“Abronwë said my nana died when I was born. He said if I had not been born that day, my nana would have lived.”

Thranduil looked up into the angry eyes of Bregolas and the pale face of Lathron, who had joined them.

“Who is Abronwë?” hissed Bregolas in a low voice.

Lathron laid a restraining hand on Bregolas’s arm. “He is just a child.”

“Legolas, many things happened on the day you were born and your naneth died, but none of them were your fault,” said Thranduil reassuringly.  Inside, though, he felt like Bregolas did.  He wanted to sit this ellon on a bench and lecture him loudly on using care in his words. “Your naneth loved you very much.”

Thranduil felt Legolas relax against him, but the arms that were wound around his neck did not loosen and the head remained on his shoulder.  He looked at Bregolas and Lathron, both looking as helpless as he felt.

“Legolas, did Abronwë say anything else?” asked Lathron gently.

Legolas nodded. “He said his naneth said my naneth should not have been traveling when she was carrying me.”

Thranduil felt as if time stood still, and rage rose within him. This child’s naneth blamed Narawen for her fate, and the placing of guilt was something with which Thranduil was familiar.  His guilt for having taken Narawen on that fateful trip had haunted him for years, and his anger had often been directed inward. He felt Bregolas’s hand on his arm, and the fog surrounding him dissipated. He looked down at the sad bundle in his arms instead.

“Do you want to have some dinner? Are you hungry?” he asked gently.

Legolas nodded, but when they entered the dining room he clung to Thranduil when Thranduil would have set him down.  Thranduil thought to hold him for a moment, then place him on his chair, but when he next looked down he found that Legolas was sleeping.

“Adar, the Great Hall looks beautiful.  We tied ribbons on the pine boughs and this afternoon we will be filling the leaf bags with candied fruit and maple sugar candies,” said Elumeril as she skipped into the room, her cheeks flushed with excitement and her eyes shining with joy at the upcoming Midwinter celebration. 

Before Thranduil could answer, Elumeril came to stand next to him. “Legolas was going to help us this afternoon, Adar.”

Thranduil shifted the child in his arms, cradling Legolas against his chest.  Wetting his napkin, he wiped the faint tracks of tears from his son’s cheeks.  He smiled reassuringly at Elumeril, but inside his heart sank, for he did not wish to discuss this before Elumeril, who still could not easily speak of her mother’s death.  His two youngest children had been so happy; his heart was sorrowed to think that heartache might return.

“When he wakes, I will send him to you, if he still desires to help,” he answered quietly. He smiled at Elumeril, then kissed her forehead before sending her to her place at the table.  She finished her midday meal quickly, then ran merrily from the room to rejoin her friends and those working on the decorating.

Thranduil sat quietly, stroking Legolas’s back occasionally and watching the child’s chest rise and fall with each breath he took.  He still treasured each moment he held this child, this youngest son whom he had feared would be killed or kept from him forever.   Had Legolas died with his mother, Thranduil would have gained some small comfort in knowing that Legolas was with Narawen, and he would have beseeched the Valar to have mercy on so innocent a soul.  Knowing his son was alive but far from him had been a torment he was not sure how he had survived, and Legolas’s arrival home was one of the most terrifying yet exhilarating events of his life -- meeting a child who might fear and reject him, a child he had thought of every moment and longed to hold. But finally that day had come and Thranduil thought that he might have peace at last. For almost ten years Legolas had been home, and none of the family could imagine him not being part of their family.  He had asked few questions about the mother he did not know. Tathiel was the constant in his life – the mother presence he had known from his first breath.  As he had grown older and learned his family relationships, he had learned of his mother and a brother who had died. They were a fact learned, but he had not even the faintest of memories of them, and thus learning of their absence had not led to more than a brief feeling of sadness.

Thranduil felt Lathron’s hand on his shoulder.  “I have some things to do,” said his son vaguely. “I will see you later this afternoon.”

Thranduil watched Lathron leave, followed soon after by Bregolas, and he knew that his sons intended to learn who these new children were and what interest their families might have in the family of the king.   They did not ask his permission, for they knew he would not grant it. He did not ask their intentions, for he could guess them, yet he did not try to stop them, for they needed to learn for themselves that they could not fight all of Legolas’s battles for him.  That is my job, thought Thranduil stubbornly, knowing how irrational the thought was.  I only wish I could.

He held Legolas for a while after everyone else had gone, finally rising and taking him to Tathiel’s apartment.   She smiled in greeting, and led him to the sleep chamber where Emlin was already napping.  Thranduil placed Legolas beside the toddler, and Tathiel covered him with a warm blanket. Thranduil watched him thoughtfully for a few moments more and then followed Tathiel from the room.

“Legolas does not nap often anymore,” said Tathiel, surprise in her voice.

“His new friends said something that upset him,” answered Thranduil. “What were your impressions of these children?”

“I liked Narthan, the younger, immediately.  Abronwë was harder to read; he seemed hardened in some ways, perhaps angry,” replied Tathiel.  Her eyes had narrowed though, at the thought that someone had upset Legolas. “What did he say?”

Thranduil repeated the words Legolas had told him and then finished, “Elumeril is in the Great Hall, helping with Mid-winter celebration decorations. She had expected Legolas to join her.”

“We will go after their naps,” agreed Tathiel. Thranduil saw her bristle and her nostrils flare though, and knew she was restraining herself from reacting to what she had heard.  As he left, he knew that Legolas would wake to the loving hands of his Tathiel, who understood what had happened that day and could answer any questions he asked.

* * *

Tathiel heard the rustling of blankets and lifted her head from her sewing as Legolas emerged from the bedchamber, wrapping the blanket around him as he yawned. He padded to her, climbing up on to the chair to sit next to her when she patted the spot invitingly.  “Hello, Legolas,” she greeted him, kissing his forehead and smoothing his hair.

“Did my adar bring me here?” he asked, another yawn escaping him.

“Yes, he did.  He said you did not eat and might be hungry.  He also said that Elumeril is hoping you will come and help decorate the Great Hall this afternoon.”

“I want to do that,” agreed Legolas.  “But I am hungry.”

Tathiel laughed as she stood.  “I am sure you are.” She held out her hand to him.  “Come sit at the table and I will find you some lunch.”

Legolas ate while Tathiel brushed and braided his hair, then took the damp cloth she handed him and washed up while she went to Emlin, who had called her.  Tathiel smiled as she held out her arms to her bouncing daughter, who always woke in a good mood.  She considered herself fortunate, for both Legolas and Emlin had been good sleepers and happy wakers. 

“Legolas is here.  Do you want to go to the Great Hall and help decorate?” she asked.

“Leg’las!” Emlin cried.  She squirmed down from Tathiel’s arms and ran out into the sitting room. “You came!  Nana says we can go decorate.  Come on, Leg’las!”

Tathiel laughed as Emlin tugged on Legolas’s tunic, and he crammed the last handful of nuts into his mouth as he slid from the chair.  “I bet you do not remember what Mid-winter decorations look like,” he told her conspiratorially.

“There are treats!” squealed Emlin.  “You told me there would be treats!”

“There will be, but I am not going to tell you where they are,” teased Legolas. “You will have to figure it out.” He laughed as Emlin tugged on his hand, leaning forward with all her strength to pull him to the door.  He suddenly dashed forward, pulling Emlin with him instead, and she squealed again in delight.

Tathiel followed them out the door, her heart eased somewhat, for whatever had upset Legolas earlier seemed forgotten now.

* * *

Legolas entered the Great Hall and awe filled him immediately at the beauty and transformation of the Hall into a place of great celebration.  He heard Emlin’s cry of delight and turned to smile at her, for he remembered the first time he had seen the Hall decorated for Yule. Boughs of pine and holly were hung on the walls, and ropes were decorated with lanterns and ribbons and strung from one side of the Hall to the other. Legolas spied the bags of treats waiting to be hung on one tables. At another table, he saw Elumeril busy filling bags and tying them with ribbons

“Legolas!” she called. “Come and help.”

Legolas ran to his sister, pulling up two stools for him and Emlin so that they could reach the table. “There are treats, Leg’las!” confirmed Emlin, her eyes round as she drank in the sight before her.  “I help, El’meril,” she proclaimed happily.

“You may help too,” agreed Elumeril.  She set a bowl of candied fruit before the toddler.  “Put two of these in each bag.”

Emlin happily began plopping fruit into the bags, the quantity seeming to range from one to five, but no one minded.   Legolas looked over all the elves working on the project and the growing pile of little bags, and then out at the trees.  No one was hanging the bags.

“Elumeril, I will go hang the bags,” offered Legolas.  “I will bring my stool so I am tall enough to hang them!”

When Elumeril nodded that he could, he picked up his stool in one hand and a few bags in the other, and raced to the great doors.  The closest tree already had some bags hanging from the lowest branches, so he set his stool down and climbed up into the branches to place the ones he had brought.

“Legolas, you need to wear your cloak,” Tathiel scolded when he ran back. 

Legolas scowled.  “I am not cold!” he argued. “I am running and keeping warm.”

“Go,” commanded Tathiel, turning him and pushing him to the door they had come through just moments before.  “It will take only a moment and then you will have pockets to put the bags in.”

Legolas brightened at that thought, and with a quick grin at Tathiel he raced back to his room and yanked his cloak from the peg on his wall.  He tugged it over his head and ran back to the Great Hall, quickly stuffing a bunch of bags into his pockets. Returning to the trees, he found his stool where he left it, and moved it to the next tree he wished to decorate.

“What are you doing?”

Legolas peered down through the branches to see who was speaking to him, and apprehension filled him as he saw Abronwë and Narthan standing below him.  Abronwë moved his stool out from under the tree and sat down upon it.   Memory of the words Abronwë had said that morning suddenly returned to him, and he wished they would leave.

“My naneth said there is a feast here tonight to celebrate Mid-winter,” said Narthan, his voice kind and curious. “Are you helping?”

“Yes,” answered Legolas.  “I am helping.” He tied the bag he had been holding to a branch.

Abronwë grabbed one of the bags and opened it, pouring the contents out on to his hand.  He stuffed all of it in his mouth at once. Legolas frowned at him. “Those are not to be eaten now, but tonight, after the blessing is spoken and the feast served.”

Abronwë hesitated, but then shrugged, grabbing another bag from the tree and quickly eating its contents as well. “I know that, but I am hungry now.” He looked at Legolas, then glanced into the Great Hall.  “Where is your family?”

“My sister is making the bags,” he answered.

“Where is your adar, the king?” pressed Abronwë.

Legolas shrugged. “Probably in his office. I do not know.”

“Who are the little elleth and adult you were with?” Abronwë continued.

“Tathiel and Emlin,” Legolas replied curtly.

“But who are they?  Your servants?”

“Tathiel is part of my family,” replied Legolas, his frustration growing. “She is like my naneth.”

“She is not really your naneth though,” concluded Abronwë. “She is a servant to your father the king.”

“She is not a servant,” replied Legolas indignantly, though he had no idea why being a servant was a bad thing.  He suddenly had an idea. “There are many bags to hang. Do you want to help?”

“Yes!” agreed Narthan, who had wandered near the doors while Abronwë and Legolas argued.

“No,” replied Abronwë.  “This is child’s work.” He paused, looking at Legolas. “Or work your servants could do. Why do you work like the servants?”

Legolas’s anger flared. “Everyone in my family does things! And all of those elves,” he said as he pointed into the Great Hall, “are not servants!”

Abronwë laughed and smiled coyly. “My naneth says that Tathiel was the queen’s servant and now she is your adar’s servant.  She acts like your naneth, but she is not your naneth.  She has her own child and probably would prefer to just take care of her.”

Legolas felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, again.  While he knew in his heart that Tathiel loved him, he was filled with a sudden fear that perhaps she did prefer to care for only Emlin.  Maybe she cared for him only because his adar asked her to. He jumped down from the tree, landing lightly on his feet just beyond Abronwë.  “I must get more bags,” he said hoarsely.

He ran into the Great Hall, the sound of Abronwë’s laughter spurring him on.   He ran to where Emlin was still helping fill bags, hopping from one foot to the other, for she never could stand still.  Tathiel stood across from her, tying the bags with ribbons.  She smiled as she saw him running to her, and he decided right then to just ask her if what Abronwë said was true.

“Tathiel,” he began, “do you…”  Suddenly, Emlin cried out, distracting them both. Legolas turned to see Emlin tumbling down off the stool. She crashed to the floor, banging her head on a chair behind her, and her cries filled the air.

“Emlin!” Tathiel cried.  She brushed past Legolas, dropping to her knees at Emlin’s side.  She ran her hands over the crying toddler, quickly determining that nothing more than a bump on the head had occurred.  She murmured to her daughter, rocking her back and forth in her arms.

“Tathiel,” Legolas began again, once Emlin had settled a little.  She was still sniffling and holding tight to Tathiel.

“In a moment, Legolas,” said Tathiel, as she got to her feet. Elumeril and others had gathered around her and Emlin to comfort the child, and Legolas found himself on the outside of the circle.  He turned, looking back to where Abronwë and Narthan stood.  Narthan was busy looking around the Hall, but Abronwë was leaning up against the door. The look in his eyes said I told you so.

Legolas felt the room spin about him, and he looked from Abronwë to Tathiel to Abronwë again.  What if Abronwë was right?  He could not be right, his heart answered.   Angrily, he grabbed another handful of bags, stuffing them into his pockets, and strode back out the door.  As he passed Abronwë, he heard him say, “Perhaps seeing you is a reminder to your adar that your naneth is dead, and that is why he has servants raising you.  Servants prefer to raise their own children, though.”

“Shut up!” cried Legolas angrily.  “You do not know anything!”  Hot tears burned his eyes again.

“You are just a baby. Maybe when you are older we can play with you,” said Abronwë in a teasing voice, and he tugged lightly on Legolas’s sleeve.

Legolas shoved Abronwë away from him, and the older child stumbled and fell backwards, landing on his rear.  A roar filled Legolas’s ears and he could not hear anything or even see anything.  He started to run, the cold air biting at his face, and he ran blindly, crossing the bridge and racing down the path where he had gone with Tathiel picking roots and herbs.  He ran through the trees, not even hearing their concerns or admonitions to slow.  He ran and ran and ran, until he was out of breath and collapsed into a pile of leaves.

There he cried until all his tears were gone, and then he fell asleep.

* * *

Chapter 3: Guardian Elleth

Tinánia walked slowly through the softly falling snow, stopping at times to watch a particular flake drift from the sky and land on a leaf or branch, or gather with others, similar but always different, on the ground.  This snow was the first snow of the winter and would make their Mid-Winter’s Eve celebration all the more beautiful.  A dusting of snow would land on the lanterns, muting and reflecting their light.  She twirled once in the snow, laughter escaping her as she did so.

As she walked along the path near the river, her eye caught a slight depression in the earth, the snow emphasizing its presence.  The footprint was small, deep enough to indicate it was made by a child running in haste, and led away from the homes and the palace.  No accompanying adult print was near it; though an adult walking at normal pace might not leave any print.

Tinánia looked to the night sky, now filled with snow, and trepidation filled her.  Bellion had just said that a storm was brewing and the pretty, light snow just starting would turn heavy, with the blowing and gusting winds obscuring all within sight. She quickened her pace, thinking to check at the Great Hall to see if any elflings were missing. The snow seemed to fall thicker and harder even as she moved forward, and she realized that she might not be able to find the child’s trail again.  Something tugged at her, telling her to follow the trail.  Determinedly, she turned and followed the tracks.

As she walked, the snow did indeed begin to fall harder, and after a short way she began marking her own trail. If a child were missing, someone would come in search of them. She slowed, as she had to begin to look more closely to ensure she was still on the trail, for the footprints were becoming lost beneath the snow cover.  Occasional broken branches still guided her, however, and she thought of her tracking lessons, of how a panicked or upset person would leave such a trail.  She turned her thought again to the elfling she was following, to what fear or hurt had led the little one to run off in such a manner. 

* * *

Tathiel rocked Emlin until she quit crying, then wiped her face with a cool cloth that someone brought for her, and set the child back on her stool and watched her return happily to her task.  She smiled at how quickly a child’s world could change from tears to smiles.  As everyone who had gathered round her dispersed, she turned, looking for Legolas. He was not waiting for her and she glanced toward the doors, assuming he had gone out to hang more decorations from the trees.

When Tathiel next turned to look at the treat bags that Emlin was helping Elumeril fill, she saw that there was now quite a pile of them. She looked again to the doors, but did not see Legolas.  “I will be right back, Emlin,” she said.

She walked the length of the great hall, then stepped outside to stand in the falling snow. Legolas was not in sight, but she saw several empty bags on the ground beneath the tree, and the stool he had been using to climb up into the tree was knocked over and covered in a light dusting of snow.  Unease settled in the pit of her stomach.  She walked out onto the large of expanse of lawn and then to the bridge, but she saw no sign of him.  He did not answer her calls.

Turning, she ran back into the Great Hall. “Elumeril, did Legolas tell you he was leaving?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, Tathiel,” answered Elumeril, her eyes filling with fear as saw the fear in Tathiel’s eyes.  “Is he missing?”

“Go check his chamber and the family rooms,” instructed Tathiel briskly, quickly masking her own face. “He probably just returned to his room for something.”

Elumeril ran off to do as she was bid, and Tathiel gathered Emlin in her arms and turned her search to the rest of the Great Hall and the chambers that were nearby. No one had seen Legolas, however.  She met Elumeril in the hall, and the child wordlessly shook her head. Unease turned to real fear, and Tathiel went in search of the king.

* * *

Thranduil was meeting with his advisors when a guard stepped into the room unbidden.  He bowed and stepped forward, not waiting for the King’s leave, and Thranduil knew immediately that something was amiss. Before the guard could speak, however, Elumeril and Tathiel burst into the room behind him.

“Adar, we cannot find Legolas!” blurted out Elumeril, heedless of the roomful of elves, as she ran to his side.

Thranduil held out his arm to her, pulling her close, but turned to Tathiel, who did look nearly frantic.

“I am sorry to interrupt, my lord,” she said in a low voice as she bobbed her head in respect. “We have searched the Great Hall and his chamber and the family rooms, and we cannot find him.  I have walked only as far as the bridge, but I cannot see him and he did not answer my calls and the snow is falling quickly.”

Bregolas was already on his feet, issuing orders that would organize a search party within the palace as well as without. Lathron had pulled up a chair and gently pushed Tathiel into it, as she began recounting the afternoon’s events since Thranduil had left Legolas in her care.  As she finished, Bregolas spoke, “I have sent guards to find the children he was playing with this morning. Perhaps they have seen him.”

Thranduil could not help but check the family quarters himself, and he led the way to them with Lathron, Tathiel and Elumeril following behind him.  As they approached the apartment that Tathiel, Rawien and Emlin shared, Rawien walked out.

“You are back!” Tathiel cried as she ran to him.  As he embraced her, she thrust Emlin into his arms.  “I must go out and look for Legolas!”

Rawien caught her arm, confused, and Thranduil quickly retold the story.  The captain placed Emlin gently back in her mother’s arms and stepped back into his apartment, retrieving his cloak and weapons.  “Stay here with Emlin,” he said.  Then he turned to Thranduil. “Where is Bregolas?”

* * *

Legolas awoke in the darkness, a heaviness upon his back that felt like Lathron had piled thick blankets on him, burying him in some game.  He did not remember playing with Lathron, though, and his nose was cold.  Lifting his head, he felt something fall from his head, and it was not until he felt a cold wetness on his cheeks that he realized it was snow. He shook it from his head and sat up, feeling the weight of snow slide off his back.  It was dark and cold and the snow was blowing so hard that he could not see more than a few feet in front of him.

Memory filled him, but then fear took its place. He remembered running away from the Great Hall, but he did not know how far he had come or whether he had stayed on any kind of a straight course.  He felt tears fill his eyes and begin to run down his cheeks, and he buried his head into the neck of his cloak.  He cried for a few minutes, but then took a deep breath. As he calmed and took more deep breaths, he began to think about what Bregolas would do.  Bregolas would not be scared.  More importantly, Bregolas had told him that if one is lost in the snow, he should not just wander blindly, but find a shelter and stay put.

He tried to think of what Bregolas had said about shelters, and he suddenly sat up straight and looked around him.  He still could not see anything, but that meant nothing could probably see him either.  Bregolas had said not to take shelter with something that would not want to share its shelter, like a bear.  Or spiders.  But spiders would not be this far north, he reassured himself.  Surely he had not run so far as to go into their territory. He thought for a moment, his brow furrowing as he considered bears.  They would not like the snow, he decided, and were likely asleep for the winter.  He would be careful not to go where they were sleeping.

He took a few steps away from the tree, the wind biting at his nose and making his eyes sting and he could not see anything but snow. Trepidation filled him again, and he ran back to the oak tree, for it was the only big thing he could see that looked like it might protect him. He leaned against the comforting presence of the large oak, feeling the roots cradle him, and he wrapped his arms about the tree’s trunk.  He felt a soothing, comforting song coming from the tree, and then realized that the snow was no longer pelting against him. He looked out from beneath the tree again, and saw the wind whipping the snow in clouds of white.  Finally, he looked up, and saw that the tree’s branches were pressed up closely to one another, forming a canopy over his head.  He smiled, and leaned back against the tree. It would protect him.

* * *

Bregolas could hear the preparations continuing in the Great Hall. Musicians were tuning their instruments and the tables were being set.  The trees between the doors to the Great Hall and the bridge were decorated with lanterns, now shining beneath their coverlets of snow. He turned his back to all of it, waiting as his captains gathered to report what they had seen around the palace grounds.  He had already received reports from guards in the palace; they had searched all the long winding halls, the cellars, the pool and baths, and every place an elfling could conceivably find himself lost.

“Bregolas,” called Ethiwen as she approached.  “Tinánia is also missing.  She left the archery field after practice and never made it home.  Her bow, arrow, and quiver are missing.”

The group was in motion immediately, running lightly over the snow to the archery fields.  From there they formed a line, and began searching the path Tinánia would have followed.  Snow had covered any potential footprints, lessening their hope that they would easily find a trail to follow.

Bregolas was bent over, examining the branches just within the forest and trying to determine if any marks were recent, when he sensed the presence of his father.  He always knew when Thranduil was near, or when he was using whatever power he possessed to determine the presence of evil in his forest.  He looked up as Thranduil approached him.

“He is to the northwest and he is afraid,” said Thranduil calmly, the wind billowing his cloak out behind him as he looked in the direction he suspected Legolas to be.

Bregolas watched as his father closed his eyes, and he could feel the energy coursing through the air around them as he attuned himself to the forest.  He could not help but wonder if the storm was limiting the reach of Thranduil’s power. However, his father had sensed what direction Legolas had run, and it matched their conclusions that Tinánia might have followed him.

A guard ran up to them, the snow nearly obscuring his arrival until he was next to them.  “My lord, the children and their families are awaiting you in your receiving room.”

Thranduil did not immediately acknowledge the message, but instead turned to look into the blinding snow obscuring the forest beyond.  Bregolas could read his frustration, for he wished to search out his son, not interview the children who had upset his child earlier in the day.

“Adar, I will send word when we locate a trail,” he offered, slipping from commander to son in his advice.

Thranduil sighed and turned to the guard.  “I will be there shortly.” The guard moved a respectful distance back as the king lingered in the snowy wood a while longer, then followed him back to the palace.

Bregolas watched him leave only for a moment, then bent over again in search of clues.

* * *

Tinánia stopped beneath a large beech tree, to shelter a moment from the wind and snow and regain her bearings.   Several times she had lost the trail and had to back track to find it again, for the child had veered on and off the path.  As the snow depth increased, she knew she risked losing the trail she followed altogether, and she took great care to mark her passage as best she could.  She was actually surprised she had not overtaken the child, for her stride was much longer and by her estimation, this child was no bigger than Legolas.

She drew in a sharp breath.  There were not many children Legolas’s size living near the palace. Although, perhaps more had moved closer for the winter or the Yule celebrations.  Perhaps one had come that wanted to return home.  She began to sing, hoping her voice would carry to the lost child.  After a few moments, she resumed her search, though it was becoming harder to see by the moment.

She had gone only a few hundred yards further into the forest when the song of the trees changed. They were comforting someone!  She began calling again, and this time there came an answer.

“Hello!” came the response.  “Who is there?”  She detected only a small note of fear, but then, bears and orcs and spiders would not call to him in Elvish, either.

“Legolas?” she called, recognizing his childish voice.  “It is Tinánia!  Keep calling, so I may find you.  Sing to me!”

His voice rose in song, and minutes later she reached him.  Snow had begun to pile up around the canopy of the branches that hung protectively over him, and she stepped carefully over the drifts, for they were some protection from the storm.

“Legolas!” she cried, and she caught him as he flung himself into her arms.  “What are you doing here?  Are you injured?”

As she spoke, she was running her hands over him, checking for injury, but he seemed well and she felt him shake his head against her shoulder.  She wrapped her arms tightly around him and squeezed.  “You are cold,” she stated matter of factly.  She pulled the folds of her cloak apart and pulled him close, then wrapped them back around both of them.  “What are you doing here?”

Legolas hung his head. “I do not know,” he finally answered with a sigh. “But it was not very smart.”

Tinánia laughed.  “Running into a storm is not very smart, I agree.  But I am here now and we will survive the storm just fine.  I imagine your brothers and father are already looking for you, and I have left a good trail for them to follow.”

She waited for a few moments, while Legolas relaxed against her, and she gently stroked his hair beneath his hood.  “Why did you run away?”

Legolas took her hand in his, rubbing on her thumbnail, stirring memories of him doing that many years earlier when they were trapped in the Iron Hills. “Does Tathiel have to take care of me?”

“I think anyone who tried to prevent Tathiel from caring for you would have quite a fight on their hands,” answered Tinánia with a smile.  “You belong to your adar and brothers and sisters, but you were Tathiel’s baby too.”

“But would she rather be taking care of Emlin?” he pressed.

Tinánia tipped his head back so she could see his eyes. “Why would she want to choose? Why can she not take care of both of you?” When he did not answer, his brow furrowing as he considered his answer, she continued, “My naneth does not have to choose between Eärundra and me, and your adar does not have to choose between caring for you and Elumeril.  Sometimes children need different things at the same time and a parent must choose the order in which they provide for those needs, but they are determining what need must be met first, not which child is more important.”

Legolas suddenly sat up straight.  “Tinánia, were you there when I was born?”

“I was.” Tinánia smiled at the memory.  “I had never seen a baby born before. It was amazing.”  She paused for a moment.  “Your brother Alagos was there, and me and Tathiel and Eärundra. Everyone was so happy. Your naneth was so happy.”

“But if I had not been born, my naneth would not have died?” Tinánia heard the statement turn into a question as Legolas asked it, and though she did not know why he was asking these questions, she somehow knew that these questions had driven him out into the storm.

“I think that the guards would have had us take refuge in the cave even if your naneth had not been in labor; we would have stayed there that night even if the orcs had not come.  If you had not been born, but still been in your mother’s womb, it would have been so much worse because then you would have died too when those Men killed her.  No, Legolas, your birth had nothing to do with what happened,” she finished.

He looked at her incredulously, and she knew that her words were very important. “Legolas, did someone tell you that? Did someone tell you that it was your fault your naneth died?”

“Sort of,” answered Legolas.  He told her briefly about Abronwë and what he had said. “I do not know why he should care when I was born,” he finished.

“People like to gossip, talk about what happened, and the king is known by everyone, so people like to talk about him,” said Tinánia carefully. “What happened to us, to you and me and Eärundra and Tathiel was very unusual.  Many people thought we were dead.  But Tathiel kept us alive and your adar kept looking for us, and it was amazing we all came home.  It was especially amazing that you came home, Legolas, for you were just a baby. And because you are the king’s son, everyone knows about it.”

When Legolas remained silent, absorbing her words, she rubbed his arms and back, trying to keep him warm. “I can tell you what I do, Legolas, when people talk about it or ask me questions that seem tactless.” When he looked up at her, she continued, “If they say wrong things, I correct them nicely.  If they ask why I train with the novices in archery, I tell them because I like to shoot arrows and the warriors are kind enough to let me join them.  When they ask how I became so good with my bow, I tell them it was a gift from the Valar.  Sometimes it hurts my heart, deep inside me, because they do not know how scared we were or how awful some of the things were that happened to us, but the people who matter the most to us do know.  And because they love us, we can ignore the things people say that hurt us. Usually they do not mean to hurt us, Legolas; they are just curious.”

Legolas snuggled against her, content with her answers, and she realized night was settling upon the forest.  What light filtered through the leafless branches of the trees was replaced with blackness, even the falling snow could not be seen.  She could tell the temperature had dropped, but Legolas still felt warm cuddled against her, now sleeping.  She pulled her feet cross-legged beneath her, in hopes of warming them, and she sang softly to the tree, thanking it for the protection it was providing.  The snow walls growing around their canopied shelter were now several feet deep, blowing snow drifting into and adding to what had fallen. Soon it would reach the lower branches of the tree, forming a snow cave right around them.

* * *

Thranduil entered the smaller chamber adjacent to his receiving area in the Great Hall to find two families waiting anxiously for him.  Lathron stood impassively at the side of the room, his gaze lingering on the two ellon before him.  The mothers and the children squirmed beneath that gaze, while Thranduil thought the fathers seemed confused. All bowed as he entered the room, and he quickly motioned for them to rise as he sat before them.

“My youngest son, Legolas, is missing,” he began without preamble.  “This morning he was playing your children. I need to know if they saw him in the Great Hall this afternoon, and if they know where he has gone.”

Thranduil noted that the smaller of the two ellon immediately squirmed, while the other looked away.  He decided to ignore Abronwë for now; he also did not wait for acquiescence on the part of the parents for him to speak. “Narthan, did you see Legolas this afternoon?”

“Yes, Sir,” said Narthan timidly, yet Thranduil could see that he wanted to say more.  He smiled, and gently motioned for the child to come closer. “Did he become upset again?”

Narthan nodded, his fear dissipating at Thranduil’s kinder tone and gaze. “He ran out into the woods! He was very upset.”

“Had the snow started to fall yet?”

“It had just started. I had just caught a snowflake on my tongue,” Narthan informed him.

“Did you see which direction Legolas went?”

“He ran up toward where we had been playing. He said his brother taught him to skip stones there,” replied Narthan. “We called him, but he did not even look back.”

Lathron moved at those two key pieces of information, slipping from the room. Thranduil felt torn, his desire to follow and join the party great.   He paused for a moment, searching within himself for his bond to his youngest son.  He knew he should further question the children, but he wanted to be the one to find his son, fold him into his warm cloak, hold him close, and bring him safely home. Nothing else mattered at the moment.

He stood abruptly. “Please, attend the feast.  I will wish to speak with you later,” he informed them.  He turned and followed Lathron.

He flung his cloak over his shoulder, the swishing of the cloth causing Lathron to turn as he was fastening his own cloak. Thranduil noted the pack fastened to his son’s back. “You are joining the search, Adar?” he asked.

“I am,” replied Thranduil. “I will not wait at home this time.” He saw a flash of something in Lathron’s eyes; memory of years past, waiting. “Lathron, do you sense anything?”

“He is sleeping,” answered Lathron.

Neither voiced their thoughts, but fear filled their hearts.  If Legolas had not found shelter, then sleep might be the first step in succumbing to the cold.  He was too young to know that he must stay awake.

They stepped out into the cold and the nearly blinding blowing snow.  A blizzard was upon them.

* * *

Chapter 4: Found

“Bregolas has found a trail!”

The word was passed from searcher to searcher, reaching Thranduil as he crossed the bridge in front of the palace doors.  He instinctively quickened his pace, his shoulder brushing against Lathron’s, and together they flew to where the trail had been found.  Thranduil was mildly surprised at the number of elves who respectfully stepped out of his way, but then realized he was so focused on his sons, he failed to consider that all of his people would come out in search of a missing child. 

While it seemed to take an eternity to catch up to Bregolas, in reality scarce time had passed when they came upon the barely visible figures of the lead scouts.  Bregolas and Rawien were carefully examining the brush and trees for signs of the trail.

“The trail has been clearly marked,” said Bregolas, rising to acknowledge his father and brother’s approach.  “But it wanders. The good news is that it means Legolas probably did not go as far as he thinks might have. Tinánia might not realize it either.”

“Is there any other reason that Tinánia might have left this trail?” asked Lathron suddenly.

“I do not think so,” called Ethiwen from behind them.  “She was expected home to bathe and change and go to the feast.”

Thranduil felt his heart lift with the knowledge that Legolas was likely not alone. He stopped, allowing Bregolas and Rawien to continue their tracking, and turned his thought to the forest once more.   The forest here was peaceful, despite the storm. He felt next for Legolas, and was surprised to sense that his spirit was calm as well.  Warmth spread through him, and his heart was eased.

* * *

Tinánia had drifted into a light sleep when a sound caught her attention. A long stick was thrust through their shelter wall, but no accompanying words offering identification or introduction were offered.  She felt her heart jump into her throat, and she carefully rose, laying Legolas in the warm spot where they had been sitting, and then pulling an arrow from her quiver and nocking it in her bow.  Grunts of someone digging could be heard, and Tinánia determined that whoever was invading them was not an animal, yet she feared speaking to the person, too.  Just as she determined she would call to this person to stop, a large hat thrust through the opening.

“Daro!” she cried, pulling the arrow back.

The head rose, a crushed but pointed hat now visible on top of bushy hair and a bushy beard on the face.  Kindly blue eyes twinkled at her, and then the being laughed.  “My cave is already inhabited, and by elves!” he laughed in Sindarin. He watched her carefully for a moment, then said, “I have seen you before, child, and you have seen me, I think. I am Mithrandir, and you are . .. hmm… Tinánia, I think, daughter of Urithral.”

“Mithrandir!” she replied, lowering her arrow as a sigh of relief escaped her. “You should really announce your presence when breaking into a snow cave,” she chastised him.

Mithrandir laughed, then withdrew, and soon he tossed his large pack through the opening and then crawled in himself.   He patched up the opening as best he could, and then seated himself across from Tinánia, pulling off his soaked hat. He leaned to one side, and then motioned at her.  “And who is this you are hiding behind you?”

Tinánia turned and lifted Legolas into her arms, then seated herself back down against the kindly oak and wrapped her cloak around Legolas again. He had not awakened, but he did again feel cold.  “He is cold again,” she said disagreeably.  “I should not have put him down.”

Mithrandir lifted his shaggy eyebrows into his shaggy hair. “Neither of you looks dressed to be out in this storm,” he noted.  He began rummaging in his pack.

“We did not intend to be out in the storm,” replied Tinánia curtly, annoyed that he would think they had done this on purpose.

“Elves do not let their children wander far from them,” said Mithrandir, more kindly. “What is the king’s son doing so far from the palace?”  He pulled a blanket from his pack, unfolding it and tossing it over her and Legolas.

“He was upset by something another child said and he ran into the woods.  The snow came and he was lost.  I saw a footprint and decided to follow, though I did not know whom I followed until I found him,” she admitted, situating the blanket comfortably.

“Then I should expect to be found by warriors of the Woodland Realm,” laughed Mithrandir.  “Good. I look forward to sleeping in a warm bed.” He raised a brow at her unexpectedly and she laughed.

“Yes, I left a good trail.  I do not think they will let darkness stop their search.  They do not know I am with him, and they will fear for him,” she answered.

“If you ventured into the storm unprepared, then I will guess you do not have food,” said Mithrandir.

“No, I am sorry,’ replied Tinánia.  “But this is the eve of Yule, and there was to be a feast tonight.  There will be plenty left when we return.”

Mithrandir laughed. “I was thinking of your hunger, child, not my own.”  He rummaged about in his pack again, pulling forth various small packages. “Wake your young friend.”

Tinánia hesitated, trying to decide if she wished to wake Legolas when he was so comfortably sleeping, but Mithrandir laughed loudly again and Legolas stirred in her arms. She sighed, exasperated. She did not recall the wizard being so loud.

“He will be fine, little naneth,” teased Mithrandir. 

Legolas sat up yawning, and his eyes fell suddenly on the very large bearded old man sitting just a few feet from him.  They widened in surprise, and he gripped Tinánia’s tunic tightly for a moment, but then curiosity overcame his reticence. 

“Greetings, Legolas,” boomed the wizard, “We were just thinking of having some dinner.  Are you hungry?”

Legolas sat speechless for a moment, then suddenly began digging in his cloak.  He pulled out a handful of treat bags and then reached back in two more times, until he had all of them. “I have treats!” he announced.  He looked closely at Mithrandir.  “Who are you? Wait, I know you.”  He tapped his finger thoughtfully against his cheek.  “Mif…”

“Mithrandir,” Tinánia finished for him.  “You met him when you were small.”

“He is still small,” noted the wizard with a snort.

Legolas glared at him for a moment. “I am not that small,” he argued. “Adar says I have grown lots.”

“You are very small compared to me, and very young.  But that is no fault of your own.  Everyone is young and small once,” replied Mithrandir, now intent on unwrapping and distributing his goods.  He peered into one of Legolas’s treat bags. “Ah, sweets.  These I favor.”

“You had stones and you made them change colors,” announced Legolas.  He glanced at Mithrandir’s pack, his interest rising.  “Do you still have them?”

“No tricks or toys until after dinner,” answered Mithrandir, swatting at the small hand that was reaching surreptitiously to his pack.  “Here, eat.”

“Your stick is glowing,” said Legolas suddenly.  Tinania looked at the wizard’s staff and realized it was glowing.   She felt her cheeks redden as she realized she had not noticed that they had had some light until now, or that the cave seemed warmer. 

“Very observant,” said Mithrandir, cocking his head to one side as he looked at the elfling.  Legolas grinned, then at the wizard’s motion, began to eat what had been provided.

When they had finished, Legolas distributed the treats, chattering on about Yule and how he had hung so many of the bags in the trees and this year even Emlin would be able to reach one.

“Emlin is Tathiel’s baby,” Legolas informed Mithrandir.

Mithrandir smiled and looked at Tinánia, who nodded.  “Emlin is two summers now,” she added, and she thought he looked pleased by this. He leaned back, loosening the belt of his long robe slightly.

“Not your ideal Yule celebration, but not bad either,” he commented.

Tinánia looked at the glow emitting from the staff, and in her mind she saw a tiny candle. It had provided very little light in the cave, but they had celebrated Yule, with baby Legolas in his little booties, crawling about, and they had the food the Watcher had provided, and they sang the songs that they knew were being sung at home, and they knew that they were not forgotten.  They knew candles were lit for them as well, candles meant to symbolically guide them home.  It was one of their favorite memories of the winter spent in the cave.  “No, not bad either,” she agreed, and she smiled.

Legolas stretched his legs out and leaned against her contentedly, popping a nut in his mouth. “What else did you bring?” he asked Mithrandir, grinning.

A laugh rumbled from Mithrandir, and he pulled his pack into his lap.  “Let me see. . .”

* * *

“The trail has ended,” said Rawien, finally voicing what all had concluded.

The elves stood spread out in their search line, each having found no further clues.  They were in a slight valley, thick with trees and undergrowth, and in the several hours of their search large drifts had formed, making the way difficult and obscuring Tinánia ’s trail.  Darkness had fallen, and Ithil was hidden as gusts of wind blew into the valley, packing the snow high on the south side and biting at their bare skin.

“We need to split up,” said Bregolas, his voice impassive and his face masked.  Clearly his confidence that they would find Legolas and Tinánia together had waned.  “There are no caves along this valley, but perhaps they moved closer to the river in search of shelter.”

Thranduil listened to Bregolas’s words, but his eyes kept drifting to the snowdrifts to the south.  Something seemed odd about the posture of the oak tree, which was buried above its lowest branches.  He focused on the tree, listening for its song, and what he heard was a paternal whisper of comfort mixed with joy.  He began to walk to it, hoping it could impart any memory of small elves having passed its way, when he suddenly saw a light shining beneath the snow.  As his pace quickened, the light grew brighter, and then the snow began to move. A walking staff that Thranduil immediately recognized thrust out of the side of the drift, and he ran to the spot, dropping to his knees and digging at the snow around the staff.

Laughter surrounded him, the gruff voice of Mithrandir loudest of all, as he thrust his head through the hole he had dug and looked inside the snow cave.

“Ada!” cried Legolas, scrambling loose of Tinánia’s arms and cloak. He crawled to Thranduil, who was widening the opening by thrusting his body through it.

He felt Legolas’s arms twining around his neck as the child buried his face in Thranduil’s shoulder. Snow began falling on them as the cave wall collapsed, and Thranduil pushed his body back out into the open, never loosening his hold on his child.

Then suddenly he was surrounded, the search party digging out Tinánia and Mithrandir and relieving the tree of the burden of snow it had born, amidst tears of joy and laughter. Thranduil was pulled to his feet and surrounded by his older sons.  Lathron and Bregolas were smothering Legolas in kisses and hugs, but Legolas was not letting go of his father.

Thranduil saw Mithrandir unfold himself from the cramped snow cave and straighten, his staff still casting light about him, and his cloak fell in shimmering folds around him. Thranduil laughed at the sight.

“It was not my choice in color,” grumbled Mithrandir, knowing immediately that he was the source of humor. “Elrond insisted.”

“You look like a big ripe berry,” laughed Thranduil.  “You no longer have any cause to grimace at my choice in crowns!”

Mithrandir glared at him, his look silencing most of the laughter, although many a giggle could still be heard passed into a cloak or gloved hand.  He swung the end of his cloak up over his shoulder to aid in walking, the deep purple color blending in with the night, but glinting as flashes of light from his staff and the torches bounced off it.

“Come,” commanded the wizard, as he turned to walk in the direction of the palace. “I have put off my warm bed long enough.”

* * *

They entered through the doors of the Great Hall, the subdued sounds of the Mid-winter Eve’s feast barely audible. As the king’s presence became known, and the bundle in his arms roused to look around him, a cheer arose.  The musicians began to play and the dancers dance, and at the wave of Thranduil’s hands, the wine began to flow.   The first cups filled were given to the searchers, who were cheered and welcomed home by their families.

Thranduil continued out of the Great Hall and down the Hall to the family quarters, and a nod from the guard directed him to the family sitting room.  Bregolas pushed the door open, and Thranduil stepped inside, preparing himself for the onslaught.  He knelt down, setting Legolas on his feet, and kept a firm hold on his son when Tathiel, Elumeril and Emlin descended on him.

“I am not hurt!” protested Legolas as Tathiel checked him over, but he did not squirm away when she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. Instead, he dissolved against her.

“Do not go way again, Leg’las!” cried Emlin suddenly.  She hit Legolas on his leg with her fist. “You scared me and nana!”

Legolas put his arm around her and pulled her to him.  “I am sorry, Emlin.  I promise I will not go away again.”

Thranduil had watched the reunion quietly, but Legolas was cold, and he intended on getting him into a warm bath. He also wanted to speak to his son about what had happened, as Legolas seemed sobered by the experience. He held out his hand. “You may come back after you have had a warm bath, Legolas.”

Legolas stepped to the door, but before he could walk through it, Lathron scooped him up. “My turn,” he said, his voice muffled in Legolas’s hair.

Thranduil saw the tears that Legolas had mostly held back start to flow, and Legolas sobbed, “I am sorry I ran off.”

“All is well now,” Lathron comforted him as he walked to Legolas’s room. Meriwen, who kept the chambers, had drawn a bath, and she let forth a sigh of relief when she finally saw Legolas. She mussed his hair and kissed his forehead, before retreating from the room.  Lathron helped Legolas out of his clothing, and Thranduil could feel the chill rising from his skin, though Legolas did not seem bothered.  He climbed into the tub, but then sat quietly with his head down.

“Tell me what happened,” coaxed Thranduil as he took a washcloth in hand and began to wash his child, hoping the soothing movements would help.

“Adar, I was very foolish,” Legolas finally admitted.  Thranduil bit his lip to keep from smiling at this admission. “You probably should punish me, but not tonight, please.”

Lathron snorted at that, causing Legolas to raise his eyes and look at his brother appraisingly. 

“I admit that punishing you is not on my list of things to do this night,” agreed Thranduil.  He continued to bathe his son, feeling some of the tension and cold leave the small body. “What happened that made you run out into the forest?”

“I did not know what to say to Abronwë. He made me mad,” said Legolas, his voice at first angry, then sad, “and then I thought he was right.”

“Right about what?”

“He said that Tathiel only took care of me because she had to and that she would rather not, if she did not have to.”

“Why did you think he was right?” asked Thranduil cautiously.

“I do not know,” replied Legolas, his voice barely audible. “He said you had servants raise me because I reminded you too much of my naneth.”

“Hmm,” considered Thranduil. “Well, that proves to me that Abronwë does not know what he is speaking of, for I am glad that every time I look at you I see your naneth.  I loved her very much, and I love you very much. You are a nice reminder.”

Legolas suddenly smiled at him, and Thranduil was reminded how much like Narawen he really did look. “I do not know why Abronwë has said these things, Legolas.  It can be hard to do, but when someone says something hurtful like that, you must stop and consider their words.  If you conclude they are not true, then you will have done much to stop the words from hurting you.  If you do not know if they are true, then you should come ask me or one of your brothers or sisters or Tathiel. We will always tell you the truth.”

“Or Tinánia,” added Legolas.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow slightly when his son blushed. “Yes, and Tinánia, and others that you trust.” He hid his smile.  “We are very grateful to Tinánia that she followed you.”

“Adar, do you think Tinánia will marry me when I grow up?” asked Legolas seriously.

“I do not know, Legolas,” answered Thranduil in a strangled voice.  He took in a deep breath and bit the inside of his cheek. “I do not think you need to find a wife quite yet, though.”

He turned serious, taking Legolas’s face in both hands, he first kissed his forehead and then said, “Do not run off into the forest again, Legolas. There are too many dangers, too many things that can happen suddenly, like this snowstorm.  I cannot bear to lose you, my little leaf.”

Tears filled Legolas’s eyes and he flung his arms about Thranduil’s neck, heedless of the water dripping from him. “I am sorry, Ada. I am sorry! I was scared and cold, and I tried to remember what Bregolas said about finding shelter if I was lost, but the snow was biting me and I could not leave the tree! I was so glad when Tinánia came, Ada.  I do not want to run away ever again,” he finished as sobs again racked him.

Thranduil stood, letting Lathron wrap a towel around Legolas, and he carried him back to his room.  He sat down in the rocking chair where he used to sit and rock Legolas when he was just a toddler and unsure of being home, and he let Legolas cry until his tears were spent.  Lathron covered them both in a blanket and built up the fire in the room, then left to see that Mithrandir was settled and the celebration ongoing.  As Thranduil sat in the darkness, with just the flames dancing off the walls for light, and his son asleep in his arms, he could not help but remember this same night many years earlier, when he had sat in this same chair, but without his son in his arms, and he had been the one to cry as he wondered if he would ever hold this child.  He wondered if he would ever look at Legolas and not think of how he had nearly lost him.

He heard the door quietly open, and seeing Tathiel, Rawien and Emlin in the entrance, he motioned them in.  Rawien held Emlin, and he knelt beside the chair so that she could kiss Legolas.

“She would not go to bed until she had kissed Legolas good night,” explained Tathiel. She smiled at Thranduil. “She adores him, you know.”

Thranduil smiled back, and motioning Tathiel to draw near, he pulled her down and kissed her head.  “Legolas adores you, you know,” he replied. “Part of what led Legolas to run was an accusation that you did not willingly take care of him, but that you had to. Anyone who knows you or Legolas knows that is not true.  You are very much his naneth, and I thank you for it.”

Tathiel tucked Legolas’s hair behind his ear, and wiped a tear track from his cheek.  She suddenly smiled, the look feral. “Whoever said that better ensure they never say it in front of me.”

Rawien laughed, Emlin clapping her hand over his mouth as she had been sworn to silence before coming in the room.  He put his arm around his wife and pulled her to her feet, while she merely smiled serenely. “Good night, Thranduil.”

A short while later the door opened again, and this time it was Tinánia who stuck her head in.  Thranduil motioned for her to come. He gazed upon the young lady before him, soon to reach her majority and he felt tears prickle at his eyes as he considered what she had meant to his family.  She drew near, leaning over to check Legolas herself and kiss him goodnight. There was a time when Thranduil would have pulled her on to his lap and hugged her like one of his daughters, but on this night he merely took her hand in his.  “Twice you have helped save my child, Tinánia.  There is naught within my power I would not do for you or give you; you have but to ask.”

Tinánia smiled. “There is naught that I need or want,” she replied shyly.

“Legolas asked me if I thought you would marry him,” he informed her, teasing.

Tinánia reddened and laughed.  “He is a bit young yet.  Perhaps we had better wait until he grows up. Emlin may claim him, after all.”

“I am pleased you are his first crush, and you are part of my family regardless of who you marry,” replied Thranduil.

Tinánia blushed again and left, running literally into Lathron as she passed him, which made her bush even more and then flee.  Thranduil could not help but smile as he suddenly realized who Tinánia might have a crush on!

“Mithrandir is comfortably settled, and the feast goes on, Adar,” reported Lathron. “No one expects you to attend. Bregolas is present, as is Urithral.   I have arranged for a smaller celebration tomorrow, in honor of Mithrandir’s arrival.”

“I would like to make Tinánia a small gift.  Do you know what she might like?” asked Thranduil.

Lathron considered the question for a moment, then replied, “Two things come to mind, Adar.  Bracers made with the emblem of your house would be fitting, considering how often she has aided this house.  On a more personal note, Tinánia is often in the gardens reading.  There is a particular book of poetry that I believe she would like.”

“Will you see that both are done?” asked Thranduil, watching Lathron closely.  He could read nothing in his son’s demeanor, but he tucked the information away for a later day.  Tinánia was not of age, and if Lathron had feelings for her, he would never allow them to be known until he felt it was time.

“Yes, Adar,” replied Lathron. He motioned to Legolas. “Do you wish me to take him to bed with me?”

Thranduil nearly said ‘no’, thinking he would keep Legolas by his side this night, but he decided he had had Legolas safely in his arms all evening.  He would do well to share him with Lathron this evening, and with Tathiel tomorrow. Besides, he had asked Abronwë’s and Narthan’s families to wait for him in the Great Hall.

“Please,” he replied.  “Legolas enjoys having you to himself.  I will go meet with the families of his friends.  I am more than curious to know how this child Abronwë has come to such conclusions.”

Lathron nodded, his lips pursed, and Thranduil knew that his son would find such a meeting unpleasant.  While he was a skilled diplomat and negotiator, he had little patience for cruel words thrown at someone merely to cause pain.  Thranduil stood, transferring Legolas, blankets and towel to Lathron’s arms. Thranduil looked at the still damp patch on his tunic and smiled. “I will wear a robe over this,” he concluded, as he decided he would not dress for the evening’s event.

* * *

Chapter 5: Forgiveness

Thranduil entered the Great Hall, managing to avoid being announced and instead merely mingling among his people.  He stopped to thank the searchers whom he had spent the evening with, reporting to them that Legolas was well and that he was now asleep. He moved on, greeting people from the further reaches of his realm, many of who came for the celebration and would now stay nearby until the storm abated and they could return to their homes. He finally came to a table where the two families he had asked to speak with were seated. They were subdued, their body language speaking volumes about the tension between them.  They all stood, bowing, as he approached.  No one else in the Great Hall had done so, for they recognized when their king dressed in common clothes and wandered among them that such formalities were unwanted.  That these two families either did not know, or were nervous enough to ignore, was interesting to him.

He waved for them to sit, then pulled up a chair to sit across from them.

“Normally I would not involve myself in the affairs of children, trusting them to work out their disagreements amongst themselves. However, the things my son had asked me about his mother and brother and how they died, about Tathiel’s relationship to him, as well as my own, had led me to wonder where children are hearing such gossip,” he said calmly.  As he spoke, he watched color rise in the cheeks of Abronwë’s mother. Neither she nor her son would meet his eyes. His comments were met initially by silence, and his eyes drifted finally to Abronwë’s father, who grimaced.

“My lord, I have questioned my wife and son about what Abronwë said to your son Legolas.  My son has repeated things he has overheard my wife and her companions discussing, quite out of the context in which they were said.  He will be disciplined for his deceit in eavesdropping on his mother, as well as his unkind words to your son,” said the elf.

Thranduil turned his gaze to Abronwë. “Look at me, child,” he commanded softly. He watched as the child’s head slowly came up, and he looked deep into his eyes, and found sadness and insecurity and fear.  “When did you move here?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“In the fall,” said Abronwë. “Our village was no longer safe.”

“Were there many children in your village?” probed Thranduil.

“Me and Narthan, and three others. I was the oldest,” replied Abronwë with a defiant lift of his chin.

“Hmm…I imagine around here you are not the oldest,” said Thranduil thoughtfully. “Yet, there are not many children near Legolas’s age, so I know he was glad to meet you two.”

“He is younger than me, but his brothers have taught him things I do not know,” added Abronwë. Thranduil could hear the hurt and the envy.

“Do you have siblings?” he asked.

Abronwë’s eyes flashed. “My brother is dead! I told you, our village was not safe!”

“Abronwë!” scolded the child’s father. “You do not speak to the king so!”

Thranduil reached out and took Abronwë’s hand in his own as memory came of the death of a young forester just past his majority in a village to the southwest. “I am sorry about your brother, Abronwë.  You must miss him terribly.”

Abronwë crumbled before him, tears streaming down his face.  His father quickly rose and pulled his son to him, for despite his pride in being the oldest elfling, Abronwë still easily fit in his father’s arms. Abronwë’s mother leaned against her husband’s side, grief so deeply etched on her face that Thranduil thought his heart might break.

Narthan’s family had sat quietly through the exchange, though Narthan rose and began to gently rub his friend’s arm.  Thranduil liked the child immediately. 

“My lord,” said Narthan’s mother, “I must confess my part in this. When we moved here, we tried hard to comfort Alinniel, but you are aware of the grief of a parent who has lost a child. One of our neighbors told us the story of how you lost your own son and wife, and the terrible times your little Legolas lived through and how he finally came home to you.  The story comforted her, truly it did, and it was not told as gossip. We did not know small ears were listening, or that the parts he heard could be so misconstrued.”

Thranduil smiled at her, but did not speak until Abronwë and his parents were calm. “I do indeed know the grief of losing a child, and not a day goes by that I do not look upon Legolas and think how easily I might have lost him too.  Yet I am fortunate in a way that you are as well, perhaps. Those who cared for and sustained my child, those who searched tirelessly for him, and those who brought him safely home are all dear to me, and all have a claim on my son. These friends have become as dear to us as family, and I am glad that you also support and sustain each other. Especially in such dark times, we must aid each other.”

He turned to Abronwë. “Legolas is fortunate for having older brothers and sisters. He has never lost someone he was close to, so you know a grief he does not.  But his heart is generous, and I know that he will share his brothers with you. They are glad he has found friends as well.”

“Will Legolas still be my friend?” choked Abronwë.

“I am sure he will, but you may speak to him yourself tomorrow.  He has also learned an important lesson about not running off into the forest.  Unlike you, he did not know it could be so dangerous.”

“I could teach him,” offered Abronwë.  “I know about storms and bears and things.”

Thranduil smiled. “You may teach him what you know, but he is not allowed to go into the forest without an adult.”

Abronwë peered from under lowered lashes at his father and winced.  “I am not either,” he admitted.

“Tomorrow we are having a smaller celebration here at the dinner hour. Please come, for I know that Legolas will enjoy seeing his friends,” invited Thranduil.  “Now I shall take my leave of you, for I have a tired elfling to tuck in.”

He rose amidst their murmured thanks, and with a wave to others nearby, he returned to his own chamber.

* * *

Legolas awoke snuggled in his brother’s arms.  He turned his head to look over his shoulder at Lathron’s face, then twisted so he was lying on his back.  Lathron’s grip did not loosen at all.  He then slipped his hand under Lathron’s and began prying up each finger in turn.  Just when he thought he was free, the hand clamped back down on his.  He studied Lathron’s face, trying to decide if his brother was really awake and teasing him, or if he just really did not want to let him go.  Lathron could be like that sometimes.

He suddenly had an idea, and clamped his lips closed so he wouldn’t laugh.  He reached his fingers up to Lathron’s ribs and began to lightly tickle him.  He felt the twitch of muscles beneath his fingers, and then saw the attempt not to smile on Lathron’s face.  “Lathron, you are too awake!” he cried, squirming and rolling beneath his brother’s iron grip.

“So I am,” agreed Lathron, suddenly rolling Legolas on top of him. “How are you this morning, elfling?”

“Warm,” pronounced Legolas. “Is Mithrandir here?”

Lathron looked over the bed.  “Nope.”

“Not in your bed, in the palace!” corrected Legolas, folding his arms over his chest, exasperated.

“In the palace, yes,” replied Lathron. “He wanted a warm bed, so I found him one and have not seen him since.”

“Should we go wake him for breakfast?”

“No, I think he wanted to sleep.  Waking Mithrandir too soon is like rousing a bear before spring. He will appear when he is ready,” replied Lathron, his eyes twinkling, for he knew Legolas was up to something.

“He had tricks and did some magic,” confided Legolas.  “But he would only show us two things.  He said the rest had to wait until today.” He paused. “He only sounds like a bear, Lathron.  I think he does not bite.”

Lathron laughed. “I do not intend to find out, and neither should you.  Now, are you hungry?  You did not eat last night.”

“We ate in the snow cave.  Mithrandir had food, and I had treat bags,” replied Legolas absently.  He plucked at the bedcover for a moment, thinking.

“Forget it, Legolas.  You are not going to rouse a wizard before he wants to be roused.  Come, let us go eat.  You may not be hungry, but I am,” said Lathron. He tossed Legolas in the air, then set him on the floor.

Legolas grinned back at his brother, for he never got away with anything with Lathron.  Bregolas always said that Lathron read him like a book.

“Get dressed and wash your face and hands!” called Lathron as Legolas ran out the door.

* * *

Legolas skipped into the Great Hall holding Emlin’s hand, the other held by Tathiel.  He scanned the room quickly, finally spotting Mithrandir sitting near his father.  He had been occupied all day, first by his brothers and sisters, and then, in the afternoon, by Emlin and Tathiel, and he had had no time at all to search for the wizard. He rather suspected that had been his father’s intent when he had planned Legolas’s day.

He kept his eyes on his father, waiting for the moment when his father would meet his gaze. Finally, Thranduil’s eyes met his, and Legolas gave him his most hopeful look.  For a long moment, Thranduil’s face remained impassive, but then finally he smiled and beckoned Legolas to him.

Legolas ran to him, only slowing to a proper walk when he was within a few feet. He let himself be drawn into a half embrace, leaning against his father’s knee. He was quiet, for Urithral, Tinánia ’s father, was speaking. He suddenly felt his father’s hand tighten against his side, and realized he was bouncing. Settling his feet, he smiled sheepishly at his father.

“Young Legolas, how do you fare this fine Mid-winter’s day?”

Legolas spun as he realized that Mithrandir was speaking to him.  “I fare well,” he replied politely.  “Did you sleep well?”

“I slept as well as one might expect for having trudged all evening in a snow storm,” replied Mithrandir, his eyes twinkling. 

Legolas nodded, his fingers twisting into his tunic as he debated asking his question. He looked up at the wizard and decided he probably did not bite at all. “Mithrandir, will show us your magic today?”

Mithrandir laughed, as well as everyone else at the table. On the other side of Thranduil, Bregolas slipped a coin to Lathron, and beyond Mithrandir, Urithral passed something to Rawien.  “Legolas, you are entirely predictable and only your timing is of issue,” teased the wizard. “I will show you some magic after dinner, outside, and then we will discuss how to create a bit of mystery and unpredictability about your actions, so that I might finally win a bet with your brother.”

“Yes! Magic after dinner,” he cried, bouncing on his father’s knee.  He did not know what else Mithrandir was talking about, but it did not matter.  He was gong to do Magic!

The cooks and those serving then appeared, and Legolas trotted off to his seat between Lathron and Tathiel. As he climbed up on to his chair, he looked at the other tables and suddenly stilled.  Abronwë and Narthan were sitting at a table with what must have been their parents.

Legolas slid down to sit properly, his eyes still on the table before him. Narthan smiled and waved, but Abronwë looked away. Legolas felt that strange feeling in his stomach, the same one he had felt yesterday, and he pushed his plate away. Fear filled him; what if Abronwë said unkind things about his family again?

“Legolas.”

The sound of his name being called finally caught his attention, and then Lathron lifted him up and move him to his lap, so that he was facing his brother.   Comfort filled him, and he relaxed against Lathron’s chest, closing his eyes for a moment. “I am not hungry, Lathron. May I go to my chamber?”

“Adar spoke to Abronwë and Narthan last night, after you were sleeping, and he talked with their naneths and adars too,” Lathron informed him. “Adar invited them to come tonight.”

“Oh,” was all Legolas could think to say.

“You do not have to play with them, but I think Abronwë wants to apologize to you.  Abronwë and his family moved here a few months ago, after Abronwë’s older brother was killed and it was determined their village was no longer safe.  I think adjusting to this new life has been hard, and in his frustration he was unkind to you.  He would like another chance to be your friend,” explained Lathron gently.

“Oh,” said Legolas, compassion filling him.  “Does he have other brothers?”

“No, he had only one sibling,” replied Lathron.

Legolas gripped on to Lathron’s tunic, a fear filling him as he suddenly thought what it would be like if Alagos had been his only brother.

“This venison is wonderful.  Why don’t you see if you are hungry now?  You do not want to miss Mithrandir’s magic, do you?” coaxed Lathron.

Legolas climbed back to his own chair, and suddenly the venison did smell good.  He began to eat, occasionally looking to where his friends sat. Narthan was eating, but Abronwë was just playing with his fork.  He finally looked up at Legolas, and Legolas waved.

When dinner was over and he had been excused, Legolas ran around the tables to where Narthan and Abronwë stood. He slowed and took a deep breath, and then walked up to them.  “Mithrandir the wizard has magic and he is going to show it to us outside.  Do you want to come watch with me?”

When their naneths nodded, both Abronwë and Narthan joined him enthusiastically, running with him to where the guards had opened the doors of the Great Hall.   Mithrandir was already there, his great purple cloak sparkling under the starlight and the big pack on his back bulging.

“Over there,” he commanded gruffly, sending all the youngsters scurrying away from him. 

He opened his pack and pulled out a package of some sort.  Legolas held his breath, waiting to see what it was.  He watched as Mithrandir did something to create a flame, and then touched that flame to the package.  Suddenly, a burst of light shot from Mithrandir’s hand, rising high into the sky above the palace and erupting into a brilliant star, first red, then yellow, then green and finally white.

“Yes!” yelled Legolas, jumping up and down in excitement.  He grabbed Narthan and Abronwë’s hands, making them dance with him. “He has a whole pack full, I think!”

“Do another one!” shouted Abronwë.  “Tell him, Legolas, tell him to do more!”

Legolas laughed. “My brother says one does not tell a wizard to do anything, but we can try.  Please, Mithrandir!” he called.

Laughter rumbled from the wizard, and he set a light to the next package, this time leaving it on the ground and stepping a few paces back from it himself.   A fountain of light stretched from the ground seemingly to the stars above, and just when Legolas thought that was all there was to it, a ship glided out of the stream of light, sailing into Elbereth’s stars.

“Gil-estel!”

“Eärendil!”

The adults began to sing, then, and Legolas found he was drifting on the music as the story telling when the star of hope had first appeared in the sky was told in verse, and how the wood elves learned of why it had come to be

Singing and dancing and watching Mithrandir’s magic filled their night, and then Lathron appeared, Abronwë’s and Narthan’s fathers beside him.  Legolas did not protest when Lathron scooped him up, though he really was too old to be carried like an elfling, for he knew Lathron still liked to do it. And he was tired.

“See you tomorrow,” yawned Legolas sleepily to his friends.

“At the bridge after breakfast,” said Abronwë. “We can build a snow fort!”

Narthan waved and then their fathers escorted them out into the night, and Legolas tucked his head under Lathron’s chin. He was nearly asleep when Lathron tugged his nightshirt over his head and tucked him into bed, and as he settled beneath his warm covers, he found himself on the path of dreams. His friends appeared, and together they went off to explore in dream woods that were always safe.

The End.