Legolas walked slowly back along the wide avenue that led to the palace. It might not have been as beautiful a day as they had become accustomed to during the previous weeks, and there might be storm clouds on the horizon, but that was no reason for anyone to stay inside to play.

The meadows were enticingly empty and the wind pushed green ripples across the long grass. More of the crab apples on the gnarled old trees by the river had ripened during the last few days and there would be frogs to try and catch in the ponds. But he could not stop to play today, because he was not allowed to play alone and there was nobody to play with him.

He had picked up a big stick when he was in the woods and he swung it now as he walked, giving each tree trunk a hearty thunk as he passed by.

Silenlhach was making honey cakes with his Naneth and older sister. They had been showing him how to shape butterflies and swallows from the spiced dough.

Thunk.

Annach was untangling coloured threads for his Naneth. When Legolas had visited Annachs Naneth had been letting him decide what he wanted embroidered on the cuffs of his new shirt.

Thunk.

Thilion was helping his Naneth make beads. Thilion's Naneth made glass in all the colours of the rainbow, and Thilion often had bracelets or belts that he had made himself.

Thunk.

Even Nimsil who they did not let play with them often was busy. She was sitting on the table next to her Naneth and weaving straw dollies with the scraps that were not needed to make baskets. Nimsil's Naneth had told Legolas that perhaps he better go back home before the storm came.

Thunk.

Legolas reached the last of the trees and walked slowly to the gate through the orchards, trailing the stick miserably behind him. It had not even begun to rain yet, but it might as well have done for all the fun everybody else was.

~*~

"Tuilinn?" Legolas tugged impatiently at the elf's long skirts. "Nobody will play with me."

Tuilinn placed her armful of sheets and blankets into the cupboard then knelt down to greet the young prince, "Will they not, little one?"

"No." Legolas stuck his lower lip out and spoke petulantly. "It is not raining yet."

Tuilinn brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear and bent to kiss the child's forehead. "But soon it will. You can play inside today."

"I do not want to." Legolas grouched. "There is nothing to do."

"What about painting a picture?" Tuilinn got to her feet again and stacked some towels into a tidy pile. "Did you not get some new pots yesterday?"

"I do not feel like painting." Legolas reached up to hook his fingers around the top of the table and bounced to look at what Tuilinn was doing. "What can I do?"

"You could build a city from your blocks." Tuilinn suggested. "You could take your horses for a ride up the stairs."

There was no shortage of treats or toys in the nursery. Few visitors to the palace forgot an exciting parcel for Thranduil's son.

"Play with me?" Legolas pleaded, reaching for the hem of Tuilinn's skirts and tugging as hard as he could. "Please?"

"I cannot, Legolas." Tuilinn spoke kindly, folding more pillowcases as she spoke. "I must finish in the linen cupboard. You do not like sitting still."

"I do!" Legolas insisted, hopping up and down on one foot. "After that? Will you play with me?"

"I cannot, Legolas." Tuilinn repeated patiently. "It is my dinnertime."

"But you are not doing anything!" Legolas folded his arms firmly across his chest. "Play with me!"

"I have promised to take someone sandwiches." Tuilinn said, her cheeks flushing a faint shade of pink. "I shall be busy."

Legolas pouted at her, and then, on seeing that it would not change her mind kicked out at the basket of clothes pegs that had been left on the floor. "But I'm bored!"

"You can paint a picture." Tuilinn leant down to retrieve the basket before its contents ended up all over the floor. "You can play with your blocks."

Legolas scowled at her a moment, then set off stomping down the corridor, shouting behind him, "I do not want to!"

~*~

Thranduil looked briefly from his discussion with his advisors as the door to the throne-room was opened, and gave Legolas a quick smile before returning to his work. He allowed his son to enter his chambers as often as he wished as long as he sat quietly, and during the last few months there had hardly been a week in which they had not spent at least a handful of hours in quiet companionship. Legolas would bring his favourite book - at present a thick volume with many illustrations of birds and butterflies - or his wooden animals and sprawl on his stomach as he played in silence, and his father would look up occasionally from his papers or conversations to share a secret smile or a few quiet words.

Today though, Legolas carried no toys or books with him, and his expression was more than a little sulky. He dragged his feet across the floor, making as much noise as was possible with bare toes, and did not sit down on the rug beside the throne as he usually did.

"Ada!" Legolas spoke crossly and he tugged on his father's sleeve, quite spoiling the tidy document that Thranduil had been preparing. "Ada!"

"Legolas!" Thranduil frowned down at his son as spoke severely. "Do not do that!"

Legolas' face fell at his father's sharp tone, and his crossness turned into a whine. "Let me be King with you."

"I am working, Legolas." Thranduil said firmly, looking sternly at his son. He had decided long ago that he must make a clear divide between royal duties and leisure to be fair to both his people and his family, and he had little intention of breaking that pattern now. "You may sit quietly, or you may play elsewhere."

Legolas looked unhappily at his father for a moment.

"Let me be with you!" he tried to clamber onto his father's chair to share in what his father was doing, and when the King made no effort to help him whinged, "Nobody will play with me."

"Legolas!" Thranduil snapped, and immediately felt guilty when he saw the shocked look on his son's face. "I cannot play with you, little one. I am your Ada, not one of your little friends, and I have work to do."

Legolas' chin began to wobble and tears started flooding down his cheeks.

"But it is not fair." The young prince's voice rose to a wail and he turned on his heel and dashed to the doorway. "Everyone else has a Naneth to love them them."

~*~

A number of hours later, Thranduil paused at the doorway to his son's chambers, admiring the scene of devastation inside. An entire legion of soldiers were scattered across the floor, marching bravely through a wasteland of marbles, jacks and what looked like an entire set of dominos. Pots of paint were open on the table and a large pool of purple liquid had trickled to the floor. The rainstorm had soaked some stuffed animals left under the open window and a broken spinning top was rocking gently on the chair. The creator of this chaos was sprawled on a cushion in the middle of the floor, thumping his feet rhythmically against the floor and piecing a wooden puzzle together with a wooden mallet from his building set.

Biting back the large number of reprimands that had sprung to mind at this sight, Thranduil picked his way across the room, trying not to drag his gowns in the paint, and knelt down at his son's side.

"Legolas," the King placed a hand on his son's arm and tried not to mind when it was shaken off.

"I am doing a puzzle." Legolas scowled as he smashed a piece into place with his mallet, each thump in time with his kicks. When his father failed to take the hint he added loudly, "by myself."

Thranduil picked up a piece of the puzzle and slotted it neatly into place - something that Legolas had missed in his hammer-happy approach to solving the game. "Puzzles are more fun with two."

"I do not want to play with you." Legolas said vehemently, the weight of emphasis on the 'you' making it evident that he was still far from forgiving his father. "I want to play with someone who likes me."

"Legolas," Thranduil could not keep the dismay from his voice, "I do like you. You know that."

Legolas bashed a piece of puzzle into a place where it did not fit. "You are not my friend."

"Legolas," the King pulled his son into a rough hug, ignoring the stiffness of the child's limbs. "I can be your Ada and your friend."

Legolas hammered another piece in place, the reduced force in this action letting his father know that he was pleased. Finally he glanced slyly up at his father. "Will you be my Naneth too?"

Thranduil sighed a deep and longsuffering sigh then ruffled his son's hair. "I can try, little one. I can try."