Author: Evensong
Summary: A tale of events during Legolas' childhood. An army invades Mirkwood and as Gandalf and Thranduil
prepare to fight, young Legolas faces a test of fate when tragedy threatens his very life.
Thank you for taking time to read my brand new story! Please take a moment to review.
Chapter One
For a small child in the royal court, a great many things in the day could be exceedingly boring. Parades of delegates and officials would often pass by and a young prince could never remember their names or
their business with his father. All that mattered to Legolas was that they kept him from playing outside.
The King, Thranduil, could not help but notice his son's waning attention to the matters at hand, but
given his young age those in the great hall understood his distraction. The walls of stone were very
stifling for a child especially one only of 15 years in the terms of elves. To the men visiting, he looked
as a child of 6 as he fidgeted in his much too large seat.
It was on this day that a very important visitor was going to be entering the halls and for this special
occasion, Legolas had to wear his good clothes and even the annoying silver circlet on his head. How he
hated wearing this, on top of it all, before he could even put his finery on he had to endure a bath.
So here the elfling sat, already in a foul temper from all the fuss and bother taken to get him to this
point.
It was at that moment that everything would change for Legolas.
"My King," the guard announced, "Mithrandir arrives."
Through the gates came walking a figure unlike anything the small one had ever seen. He wore a hat
taller than any elf, robes that billowed all about him and a walking stick that looked like a small tree.
Thranduil rose to greet his old friend, "It is such a pleasure to see you here in my halls. To what do we
own this visit?"
"Tiding I lament bringing to you, but must be said. Things that should be exchanged in more private places
than your great hall." There was a deeper meaning here and Mithrandir had a great talent of getting powerful
emotions across without speaking a word. The elf king nodded and prepared to depart for his chambers with
his friend when he remembered who it was that staring at the pair with wide eyes.
"Mithrandir," Thranduil said, "I believe it has been so long since your last visit you have not met my son,
Legolas."
The Istari turned to greet the small elf. Gandalf could not help but smile for it had been a great while
since he had encountered an elfling of such a young age. He always thought that elves were at their best
at Legolas' age.
"I am very happy to meet you, Legolas." Mithrandir said, extending a hand to touch the young one's
shoulder.
Legolas remembered the manners his father had taught him and bowed his head in response.
"Are you really a wizard?" Legolas asked in a quiet voice.
Thranduil and Gandalf laughed at the innocent question, "I am. Perhaps later you could show me
around the gardens. I've heard they are quite a lovely sanctuary in which to seek refuge."
With a nod of his head an agreement was reached.
The pair left the child alone and Legolas knew he was now freed of his duties in the hall once his father
rose and left. Leaping from the platform where he and his father sat, Legolas ran up to the doorway and out
to his room. The sooner he got to his room, the sooner all the annoying things could come off his body!
Sprinting through the door of his room, a trail quickly formed consisting of a tunic, leggings, dress
shoes and finally a silver headpiece that was of great value. To a child though, it was just another trinket
he couldn't get rid of fast enough. One minute later out flew Legolas in much more comfortable clothing of
brown leggings and a light green tunic. These clothes showed a great deal of wear and would soon be too big
for the growing child, but for now they were the clothes of choice.
****
Some time later, a father and a wizard stepped into the mess of the Prince's chambers.
"Every time he gets out of court, I can expect this in his room. No matter how many times I tell him to pick
up he cannot stop in his excitement to be somewhere else." Thranduil sighed and picked up the child sized
clothes.
Mithrandir laughed deeply, "It is quite a sight to see the Mirkwood King picking up after another. Such a
mighty ruler forced to bend down to a child's will."
After having picked up the headpiece, Thranduil couldn't help but join in, "It is true." A look of sad
recollection swept across his face, "I thought when my queen died in childbirth that I could not love again,
but then I first saw Legolas. Never have I loved another as I do him. Whenever the darkness grows near,
or others come bearing bad tidings," The King looked with intent towards his companion, "I simply play with
my son or dine with him. That makes it all worthwhile."
"Then let me go and see if I can find this youngling and, if I remember another royal elf when he was a
child, our little prince will be up the nearest tree."
****
While the King returned to his court, Gandalf was left to find the little target of his interest. Indeed, his
guess was correct and he saw Legolas in a larger tree and he appeared to be watching something.
"Little One," The Istari called, "what is it you watch with such interest?" It must be something wonderful to
keep a small child's interest as firmly as Legolas' was held.
Legolas came down from the tree so quickly, Mithrandir almost thought he was falling, but instead the child
gracefully landed on the ground in front of him.
"Look! Look!" Legolas spoke, "A nest of baby birds are hatching." The prince pointed into another tree, "Do
you see them?"
Not having the vision of an elf, even an elf child, Gandalf could only barely make out the nest.
"You are very observant, young Greenleaf."
Together, they continued down the paths of the gardens. Legolas would point out everything of
interest and Gandalf told stories to the child about great animals and plants that existed outside of
Legolas' small world.
Thus began the strong friendship between a great wizard and an elf of Mirkwood's royalty.
A friendship that would last for more than an age and be tested all too soon.
Chapter 2
A King of elves could handle many different situations, but getting a son down for his nap was not
one of them.
"Come on, Legolas, you're tired! I can see your eyes drooping. You stayed up much too late last night."
"No!" Came the forceful remark, "Not tired!" Mithrandir laughed at the small one, as stubborn as a
dwarf and able to easily stand up to a powerful elf lord.
"Legolas" Gandalf cooed, "How about I read to you?" The Prince's attention was easily captured for he had
a great love for books just like the Wizard.
Going to the bookshelf, Gandalf saw a book that looked interesting to a keen young mind.
"Get into bed, Legolas and I shall read you `The Elf and the Dragon of the Lake'." Quickly, Legolas jumped
under the covers of his bed and stuck his head out, eyes glued on the one holding the book as he got into
a chair next to the bed.
He began. "Once, many an age ago, there lived a young elf in the wood."
"Like me!" Legolas chirped.
"Yes, like you. Let me continue: This elf loved to spend his days roaming the trees."
"Like me!"
"Yes, of course. Now, one day this elf came upon a great lake�.." A short time later, Gandalf noticed
that the child had finally fallen asleep and placed the book on the night stand. He also realized that
Thranduil had snuck out, leaving the pair alone.
"Sweet dreams, small one." He whispered before leaving and shutting the door to find the child's father.
*****
"The Easterlings are gathering a great force to them. I believe they are aiming to make an assault on your
lands, Thranduil, for it is rumored that your defenses are not what they used to be"
"Is it?" The King questioned, "Perhaps many flee or fall in our countless battles in the dark of our
lands, but we are not as weak as some would think. We can handle the assault of a force of men." Contempt
laced his voice and a little of the so-called arrogance of the elves shone in his words.
Gandalf shook his head, "They are unlike the men you have faced in the past. Their organizational abilities
are strong and they are confident beyond that of most mortals. Eagerly have they awaited an opportunity to
strike."
"They can strike whenever they wish and when they do they will see that we are not as weak as they would
believe." The King's words gave an air of finality. There would be no more spoken on this subject at this
time.
A Wizard would never let their subject drop though, and Gandalf would soon bring it up again to his
friend. For now, he decided to take his leave and wander the paths of Mirkwood.
*****
Deep into the heart of the great forest the Wizard traveled. Dark and thick, it almost seemed to press
in on the heart and soul.
Most did not venture out this far for the elves had quickly learned to keep to their own walls, though it
damaged their entire being to do so. They hated leaving the forest and abandoning her in a great time
of need.
Mithrandir, however, still saw the beauty the forest possessed, hidden behind the evil and under the
blackness. This place would be a forest of light again. He would see to that. The laughter of elven
children would once again ring in her boughs.
His thoughts turned to the King's young son and only heir to the great throne of this land. What a heavy
weight on such young shoulders. Innocence would soon be lost to responsibility, playing to study and wonder
to fear.
"Not as long as I am his friend." Gandalf swore to the trees around him.
As he walked slowly along the mysterious paths, something up ahead caught his eye and he strode over
to see what it was. Recognizing it immediately, he grabbed it and quickly made to return to the stone
halls.
*****
King Thranduil was performing a very dangerous task, an operation of the most delicate sort. Only the
skilled hands of the ruler of Mirkwood could see this to completion. A very anxious person waited
practically holding his breath for the outcome.
"All better." He finally broke the silence, "Here you are, Legolas, but be sure to play a little gentler
with your toy."
Thranduil handed back a stuffed cat to his son complete with new stitching on its tail. Smiling with
relief Legolas grabbed the toy to hold it close, relieved to see his friend all better from his
accident in the trees.
"Thank you, Ada!" Legolas said. Toy in hand, the child went to run out once more before being called back.
"Don't I get payment for my labor?"
Twirling, Legolas ran back to his waiting father who was already kneeling for his son. The Prince gave his
father a giant hug and kissed him on the cheek.
Before he could even stand up once more, all Thranduil could see of his son was a flash of blond hair going
out the door. His eyebrows flew up when he heard a muttered `oof' coming from where his son had run
followed by a spark of laughter from Mithrandir.
"Careful, Prince, who knows what you could run into in times such as these!" Shouted Gandalf after the
running child who had made a quick apology but had not really slowed down.
When Thranduil saw his friend he could not contain his laughter. The Wizard's run in with one so small had
dislodged his great hat so it sat lopsided on his head, not even an orc attack could mess up Gandalf's
hat, yet there it sat.
"Please forgive my son, he has such energy as I have never seen." Laughed the King.
No reply was needed except for the adjusting of the hat to its rightful place. Gandalf then reached into
his pocket and produced a small item to present to the elf in front of him.
Slowly reaching, as if it would bite him, Thranduil took the piece of cloth into his hand.
"Do you believe me now? I found this snared on some thorn bushes. That is the emblem of the easterlings
sewn upon it. The threat is real."
Thranduil pondered the words while holding the cloth before suddenly turning it and throwing it into the
fireplace.
"Why?" he asked, "We fight so many foes, why must another be pressing in upon us?"
"I cannot answer that, my friend, but they are closer than even I thought. An attack could come at any time
to any place. None are safe."
The King nodded, thinking on this latest development when an elf came rushing into the chambers.
"My Lord, an enemy is attacking our east gate right outside the Great Hall."
The pair rushed out not even noticing that they were following the exact path to the woods that Legolas had
taken moments ago when all was safe and a small child could run into the forest alone to play.
Chapter Three
Thranduil surveyed the battlefield laid out before him.
"You were right, Gandalf, please forgive me." A call to arms sounded throughout the elven stronghold
calling forth all warriors to come and fight for their home and their families.
Already, small skirmishes were being fought with sharpshooters helping out as best they could from
their positions in the trees.
"The enemy has come much closer than we suspected. Even I did not see this happening soon enough to
prevent it." The number of their foes was great and they had already invaded parts of the court's private
gardens and woods.
Many elves came forth bearing arms and preparing to launch themselves into the fight. The King himself
took up weapons and his great sword to join his men in the attack. The Captains of the forces looked to their
leader, who was no stranger to great battles having fought and lost his father in the greatest battle in
all history.
"Let us charge our enemy! They shall soon see that the elves are not fading, but possess the great strength
of the Valor!" Pointing his silver sword at the enemy, Thranduil ran out to fight with his loyal people
joining him.
Easterlings were hidden amongst the trees, firing their bows in hopes of remaining hidden and able to
kill as many elves as possible before being discovered. They did not count on the very trees they
used for cover betraying them by whispering their location to the attacking elves. Quickly were they
found and destroyed. All their hopes of making the last elves flee and having the great realm to
themselves were being crushed along with their numbers.
They would not be defeated, though, until the last of them were cut down.
Thranduil himself stood in the front of the lines, using a great bow to send death quickly and quietly to
his foe. His heart bled to see so many of his people killed. Their enemy, though they were men, fought hard
and took many immortal lives with them as they slowly crept back.
"They are retreating, my Lord!" Shouted an elf from a position on the front lines.
"Keep up your guard! Do not let them have the upper hand for one moment! Attack until even elven eyes fail
to see the enemy!"
Arrows flew and the clang of swords clashing was heard into the afternoon. The fighting was more severe than
any, even Mithrandir, could have predicted.
The elves triumphed and held their ground, but paid a terrible price by giving the lives of many to the
field of death.
"Come," Thranduil called to one of his closest advisors, "please, go out into the fields with your
men and look for survivors. We must rescue as many as can be saved."
Mithrandir joined the King, "You have done well, son of Oropher, your enemy is defeated and your kingdom
held safe. Indeed, you are stronger than even I could have imagined."
Thranduil could only nod, for he did not see a field of victory, but a field of blood. Perhaps his people
were fading. He knew for sure that this battle hurt their waning numbers more than a whole nest of
poisonous orcs and spiders.
Together, they returned to the palace to speak of plans for the immediate future. Now they were weak and
future threats needed to be discussed. In the study of the King the pair talked.
"Now what do we do? I could not spare one warrior, yet now many lie on my very doorstep."
"We will hold until you can regroup. Your enemy will not have the ability to launch another attack for some
time."
"How can you be sure? You said yourself that you were unaware of their presence so close to my home. What if
there are more hiding deeper in the woods?" Stress was making the King almost panicky.
The doors burst open as an elf ran to the King, "My Lord!" he panted, "We found this on the field of
battle."
In the elf's hands was Legolas' toy, covered in red blood.
"My son!" Thranduil shouted. "Where is my son? He just went out to play when" Words stopped and the elf
looked to the Wizard with such fear in his eyes that it was not natural for any elf to have.
"He went out into the fields." Mithrandir whispered, "He went right into the enemy when they were in hiding
and about to strike. No one noticed him leave."
"We have not found him, My King." Said the messenger, shaking in his fear and worry.
Thranduil raced out of the study with his friends close on his heels. They flew out the door and onto
the bloody fields where the trees themselves were mourning such death.
"Legolas!" The King shouted with all the passion of his soul.
*****
Hours passed and one by one elves returned from the fringes their searches completed.
The small Prince was not yet found.
The King was shaking in fear, sitting in front of the fireplace of his son's room. He kept it lit and the
room warm for Legolas' return. In his hands, he still held the stuffed toy. He clutched it hard, nearly
ripping the seams without realizing it. He had searched with his people until he was too frantic to
know what he was doing. Finally, his people convinced him that being at the palace was best. He would know
quicker when Legolas was found for the person to find him would bring him straight there. It was feared that
Thranduil would be on the other side of the wood when Legolas was found.
Silently, Mithrandir walked into the room. Toys, books and games were littered around the room. It seemed
hallow without its young resident.
"How could I not know? How could have lost him?" the elf whispered, his voice shallow and cracking.
"You were doing what a king needs to do. You were focused on your people, looking to the greater good."
The words sounded bitter to Thranduil. "So much like his mother, he has her beauty, her virtue. She is gone
and if Legolas is lost as well what would there be left for me to live for?"
"Do not think that way, he is strong. They will find him."
The fire crackled providing the only sound in the room.
*****
In the late afternoon as the sun was beginning to set, there was a commotion below.
The pair in Legolas' room jumped up with hope in their hearts.
"We have found him!" Came a yell from below as a group of elves were approaching the prince's chambers. One
of them held a form wrapped in a blanket close to his chest.
"Send for the healers! Summon them from the fields at once!" The King shouted. As the group came into the
room, a still form was placed upon the bed.
Thranduil gasped, Legolas' front was covered in blood. So much was lost and his small son's face was so pale.
He was unconscious and yet his face was scrunched up as if the pain followed him in his dreams.
"Where did you find him?"
"My Lord," a scout replied, "he was found among a group of bodies near an enemy camp. It appears they
had taken him to be a hostage in case events went ill. When they were attacked though, I can only guess it
was decided that he would not be of any use to them after all. We did not find him right away because he
wasn't making any noise."
The healers streamed into the room and quickly made an assessment of their small patient. A sharp blade had
been used on Legolas' small body, a long slice was cut across his chest. They knew time was short and they
needed to be alone with the child in order to try to save him. The greatest fear were injuries they had not
yet discovered for they knew the easterlings were not gentle with their captives, even one so young.
"My King," the master healer said, "you and Mithrandir must wait outside, we must do our job without
interruption."
"You would ask me to leave my son?"
"We shall let you know the minute we have inspected his wounds. Please, let us work."
Gandalf calmed and pushed the King towards the door and into the hallway. Shock at seeing his son so
injured made it possible for him to do so without the King even realizing it.
The sound of the door slamming shut echoed around them.
Chapter Four
The woodland King paced outside his child's bedroom waiting for news. Legolas' injuries were so severe
that the healers required that they work alone with no one distracting them from their work. Gandalf could
only wish for the words to soothe his friend as he watched the tortured pacing. Normally, a Wizard would
have something profound to say, words of comfort to bring hope to any troubled time, but now there was
nothing left to say.
Gandalf could not say any words of hope for he was unsure if there was any hope left for the child. How
could he tell his friend to trust and relax when inside Mithrandir was joining with his friend in his
agony.
Finally, after the longest time the pair had ever endured the healers came out, one of them stopping
before their distraught King.
"My Lord," he stuttered unable to hold the King's gaze.
"No." Whispered Thranduil.
The healer could not raise his head, only his eyes rose slowly, "His injuries are fatal, My Lord, he has
been cut too deeply and in addition poison runs throughout his body. There is nothing we can do for
him now but give him something for the pain. Please forgive us, Highness, we have failed you!" The healer
wailed. The words took a moment to set in. Their meaning like a physical blow of the greatest force.
"How long?" Came the shaky reply.
"Not long, My Lord. He is awake now, you may go to him."
Thranduil did not waste a moment and all but ran to his son's bed. Legolas lay with a sheet up to his
middle with his arms lying on top. He was warm with fever and the sheet was only there to hide his
injuries so they would not scare him or his beloved father.
"Legolas?" Thranduil whispered gently, "My son?"
Legolas turned his head slowly to his father's voice and peered into his eyes. The drugs had made him
weary, but behind those eyes still shone a keen and awake mind.
"Listen to me now, Legolas. Tonight you are going to go on a journey." The King tried to hold his composure
together for his son's sake. He wanted Legolas' death to be peaceful and not to scare the child. There would
be centuries to grieve and he wanted to cherish these last moments with his son.
"Come with?" Came a quiet question, his voice barely a whisper it was so weak.
"No, Legolas. I cannot come with you. You are going to venture to the Halls of Mandos." He pulled back some
tears, "I want you to be a good little boy there and mind your manners." Legolas could only manage a faint
nod not quite understanding his father's words.
That was all Thranduil could muster to say, emotion had stolen his voice and all he could do was gently
touch his hand to his son's hand that was on his chest. Mithrandir came forward knowing he could not
stand for the silence and mourning in this room. That would come soon enough. It would not be fair to the
child to have him die with nothing but sorrow surrounding him.
"Little One," he began, "We have not finished our book." Gandalf looked to the nightstand and there sat
the forgotten book still, bookmarked at where they had left off. "Let us finish `The Elf and the Dragon of
the Lake'."
The small elf's attention turned to the Wizard, awaiting the story's continuance. Mithrandir read the
book with as much of his storytelling ability as he could, wishing something special for Legolas. His
words flowed from the page and the story came to life.
Thranduil knelt at the side of the bed, his hands folded under his chin and watched his beautiful son so
closely. Every movement, every flicker of his eyes was burned into the monarch's memory. He watched Legolas'
eyes slowly close to the world, something elves never did unless they were ill � or dying. It was painfully
clear that his child was losing the battle against his failing body. Fear set in as his breathing slowed. He
watched the chest rise and fall until it did not rise again and the small child was still, peace finally
coming to his face as it relaxed.
The storybook ended.
*****
The Halls of Mandos were a spectacular vision and the highest Lord of the realm; Mandos himself felt great
pride in their beauty and peacefulness. Surely, they were a deserving place for the wonderful firstborn to
go if death claimed them from the world of Middle Earth. Every so often, this powerful being would
wonder this place himself, taking in the life and beauty that surrounded him.
Today was curious though, something drew him to a beautiful oak tree that grew in a meadow. Arriving at
its trunk, Mandos peered into its branches and was met with a pair of bright and confused eyes. Eyes that had
been crying in fear and loneliness. A new arrival just moments ago.
"Well now, child, what are you doing here?" He asked.
*****
Mithrandir laid the book down. Legolas' father was too afraid to move.
Slowly, the King reached out to his son and once more took the small hand into his own. Leaning forward, his
laid his head upon the still chest and wept with all of his soul. Tears soaked into the child's shirt.
Mithrandir gently laid a hand upon Legolas' forehead and felt the small neck for any pulse and found
nothing. He came forth to whisper into the small pointed ear, knowing better than to think there was
anything left to sooth, but it comforted the speaker to say the words aloud.
"Do not be afraid, child. Go now and find the light." Maybe there was a flicker still there; lingering to
make sure everything would continue for those loved ones left behind.
The sobs of the King broke through the silence as the sun set beyond the window.
Fear ran through the elf's heart, for he knew his son would have to be taken to the Halls of Waiting and his
body prepared for its final journey; for his funeral and burial. He did not want to move Legolas from his
room to that cold room of stone, to a strange place.
Hours passed and soon the beginning of the dawn's light was seen.
A careful whisper came from the King, "He is becoming so cold," Thranduil laid a hand upon his son's
forehead, "I cannot bear him to be so cold without my being able to warm him." He gently stroked his son's
hair, peering into the seemingly sleeping face. Large, inquiring eyes that shone with a spectacular light
were closed and hidden now and forever from all who would look upon them.
"My friend, it is time to leave, come and let us sit together." Gandalf said quietly.
"I cannot leave him."
"You must, King, he needs to be looked after. The night has passed and the sun rises. Life is
continuing."
Thranduil gasped, "This is his room, his bed, I cannot remove him from this place."
"This is his deathbed."
Silence.
The words struck the elf like a hammer through the chest.
Slowly, he found the strength to stand, to look down upon his son without falling to the ground. His friend
came to lead him away. Together they were leaving, heading for the door, away from the small dead body
and to the world that was waiting.
Thus ended the story of Legolas, son of Thranduil.
At least it would have.
Except that another would not let the book close.
Chapter Five
The eyes in the tree shone a great light as they gazed down at the figure.
"Why don't you come down now?"
A shake of the head was the silent reply.
"Why ever not, child?"
"I want my Ada." Came the whispered reply.
Mandos smiled at the elf child in the tree. It was sorrowful that one so young should have encountered
death, that those that remained would have to grieve so soon, but at the same time Mandos welcomed the
change of pace from warriors and unfortunate travelers.
"I know this all must be very scary." Mandos soothed to the child. "Please come down and we'll see about
finding your father."
Legolas blinked in confusion. Hadn't his father said he was to come alone? His father had been very sad,
wouldn't he come to find him if it was at all possible?
"Don't be upset, child. It seems that fate has made some poor decisions while my back was turned and I
shall see about correcting them right away. Please come down."
Slowly, the elf child saw that this stranger meant to him no harm and began to descend from his tree.
Legolas extended his hand to the Valar and when they touched all in the child's vision turned to the
brightest white light.
*****
Thranduil waited in the hall, wavering slightly as he watched Gandalf lean into the room to pull the door
closed. There was a silence so thick that the King thought he had lost his hearing. Then a voice, quiet
and loud together, came to them before the door was closed.
"Do not turn away from the child. Return now to his side and listen to my words." The words cut through
the air like a knife.
There was not much in the lands that could shock a Wizard, but Gandalf had no reply to the call and only
looked to Thranduil. The elf could only think of the meaning behind those words and not their source. He
flew through the door in a flurry of long robes and rushed once more to Legolas' side, but his child still
slept in the peaceful arms of death.
"What kind of game is this? Who is tormenting me!?" His limit had been reached and soon madness would set
in if answers were not forthcoming.
"Do not panic, my child, I am here." The elf and wizard looked to the corner of Legolas' room and saw a
form, but not a form like any they had ever seen before. This was an entity to be sure, but one made
only of light. No substance could be seen except for a vague form that could be considered an elf.
"Who are you?" Gandalf asked.
"I am the doorman of the realm of the dead and forgive me for ignoring my duties."
"Lord Mandos?" Thranduil whispered in a voice of disbelief.
The form slowly glided and moved closer. "I have been called Mandos by some. One of the Valar instructed to
care for those who are slain."
"You are caring for my son?"
The being laughed softly, "Ah, if only I could. Elven King I have met your son and such a pleasure he is.
Alas, I cannot keep him yet."
Hope sprung into the elf; hope against that which is unstoppable, hope against death itself.
"What do you mean?"
"Your son died too soon. He is yet needed in Middle Earth for a great while to come. He must be returned
to you in order to fulfill his destiny and the fate of all the lands."
Thranduil looked to Legolas' body, gray and cold upon the bed. "He has been lying here for so long, how can
he just come back now?"
"It will be traumatic to say the least." Mandos came even closer to Legolas' father, but not close enough
for any physical contact. "His body and soul will be in turmoil and confusion. His spirit will be upset by
the images he will carry with him from my halls. Those I cannot erase, but will fade in time. He is yet
young, but he will cry when I wake him. Hold him close to your heart always."
As quickly as the light had come, it was gone and Thranduil and Gandalf needed a moment for their eyes
to adjust to the darkness. They were shaken from their trance by a small movement on the bed.
A gasp of air echoed loudly in the room followed by panicked coughing. Suddenly, Legolas began to cry
loudly.
"Legolas!" Thranduil exclaimed the Wizard in the room rushing forward, "Oh my son! I thought I had lost you
forever!" He held his son tight feeling his breathing, his movements; the life within him once more.
"He's in pain." Gandalf whispered when he watched Legolas wiggle and cry. When he touched the child, he
found out why. "His body is unbelievable cold. We must warm him." His friend ran to feed the fire. "Little
One," Gandalf cooed, "do not cry, you're safe with us."
Legolas' tears did not slow for quite some time. When they did he looked to his Ada with cloudy, confused
eyes.
"There was a tree." Legolas whispered.
The End