"Good morning, Legolas!"

Legolas blinked sleepily at the chambermaid who had come to wake him. "It does not feel like morning," he said uncertainly. The maid laughed merrily as she lit a candle.

"Indeed it does not," she said. "It is still dark outside. Today is Yule, and that is the shortest day of the year. The sun will not rise until later, and we will not see her for very many hours today."

Legolas jumped out of bed and danced with excitement. "Is it really Yule?" he asked. "Did it snow?"

"No," the maid said, smoothing the covers on the bed. "It did not snow. But something even better happened during the night."

"What happened?"

The maid handed Legolas the pillow from the bed. "You will have to find out for yourself," she said. "After you have washed and eaten, you may go outside to play. So let us finish here quickly as little rabbits."

Spurred on by the promise of something better than snow outside, Legolas fluffed the pillow as quickly as any little rabbit, set it on the bed, struggled out of his nightclothes and scampered for his washbasin. The chambermaid smiled, remembering how excited she had been to greet the dawn on Yule when she was small, and stooped to pick up the forgotten nightclothes lying on the floor.

When Legolas ventured outside, warmly wrapped in a soft cloak lined with squirrel fur, he stared at the trees surrounding the delvings in open-mouthed amazement. All the little twigs and branches were encased in ice. As the first rays of the sun touched it, the ice sparkled just like the caves of Menegroth in the stories that Luindil sometimes told. The ground crunched as he walked on it. Delighted, Legolas put out a finger and touched a smooth, cold branch. When he released it, it sprang back into place, and the whole tree tinkled like glass bells.

Light footsteps crunched behind him, and Legolas turned around to see Glawariel leading three other equally astonished children from the delvings. "It is pretty, is it not?" she said. "There was an ice storm last night, and you must be careful in the woods today."

"Why?" one of the other children asked.

"The ice is pretty to look at," Glawariel said, "but it is also dangerous. Sometimes the warmth of the sun will melt it, and it will fall in great chunks from the trees. And sometimes the branches are not strong enough to withstand the weight of the ice encasing them, and they might break off and fall as well."

Legolas looked up at the trees anxiously. Now that Glawariel had mentioned it, he could see that some of the branches were drooping under the weight of their icy coats. He did not think they were happy to be covered in cold, wet ice.

"The branches will not fall on us, will they?" one of the children asked.

"Not if you stay close to me and do as I tell you," Glawariel said. "I will listen to the trees, and if one is about to break, I will tell you to move away from it. If you obey me when I tell you to move, then you will be perfectly safe." She held out a hand to Legolas. "Will you come with us, Legolas? We are going to gather greenery to decorate our homes for Yule."

Legolas gave his branch one last sympathetic pat and followed Glawariel into the glittering, tinkling forest. Glawariel led them to evergreen trees and holly bushes and showed them how to ask the trees nicely for permission to cut some of the pretty branches. When Legolas wondered if it would hurt the trees to do so, Glawariel assured him that the trees would not mind.

"It is just as if someone were to ask you for a hair from your head," she explained. "It would sting for a moment, but that would pass, and you would make someone you loved happy by doing so." So Legolas made sure to ask each tree politely as he filled his arms with bundles of fir and holly.

The sun had risen, and the ice melted off the trees, falling to the ground all around them as rain. Twice, Glawariel moved her four little charges to avoid a great fall of ice and debris. They sang as they worked, cutting branches and carefully shaking bright droplets of melted ice off of them. After a while, their ears and noses began to sting with cold, and Glawariel declared that they had collected enough greenery. She led them back through the now silent woods to the settlement.

The other children trotted off, bearing their greenery to their family quarters to help decorate them for Yule. Legolas stood in the entryway, unsure what to do. His Nana had always been the one to decorate their private chambers for Yule, but she was gone. Thranduil had said nothing about Yule celebrations, and he had not taken out any of the ornaments that the Queen had used. Legolas thought that perhaps Thranduil did not know where they were kept, and he felt sad that the family Yule ornaments were now lost forever.

Suddenly feeling lost in the great caverns, Legolas wandered into the Great Hall, thinking that something interesting would be happening there. Sure enough, the Great Hall was full of busy Elves. Some were carrying candles and fitting them into the candelabra. Some were weaving great evergreen garlands, and some stood on ladders fastening the garlands to the walls and hanging them from the torch sconces. Luindil directed four of the strongest hunters as they hauled an enormous log towards the hearth. Legolas carefully threaded his way through the bustle and tugged at the hem of Luindil's doublet.

"Hello, little one," Luindil said. "A glad Yule to you."

"Glad Yule," Legolas replied. He offered up the holly and evergreen in his arms. "These are for decorating," he said. "Glawariel helped me cut them. Will you hang them here with the rest of the decorations?"

Luindil bent down and carefully took the armload of greenery. "I think we have plenty of green branches for the Great Hall, little one," he said. "I will take these somewhere else." Legolas looked around and felt foolish. Of course, with all the maids sitting and weaving garlands, there would be no need for his small armful of cuttings.

"May I help you decorate?" he asked. Luindil shook his head.

"It is a generous offer, but you are too little to be of much help here," he said. "We would not want to lose you in amongst all these wreaths. Perhaps I can take you to visit one of your friends to play."

"They are all at home decorating with their families," Legolas said. "Gilveril said that she would go and capture a wren with her friends. Do you think that I could go with them?"

"Next Yule, perhaps, when you have learned to stalk birds. They are harder to surprise than squirrels."

"Then what will I do?"

"You have toys, do you not?" Luindil said. "If you can play quietly and have a nap, then I will have time to finish my work here. If my work is finished, then I will be able to come and see you before I go to prepare myself for the masque."

Legolas clutched the damp cloak around himself and bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling. "I want my Ada," he said in a very small voice.

Luindil's expression softened, and he knelt down beside Legolas and stroked his hair. "I know you want your Ada, little one," he murmured. "But you must be patient and wait for him a little longer. You will see him tonight at the masque." He gave the child's hand a squeeze. "I will put your branches somewhere safe. You should go and take off that cloak. I think there is a fire laid in the entrance hall. Hang the cloak near the fire so it will dry and not smell of wet squirrel."

Some time later, Legolas peeked cautiously around a corner in one of the cellars. He saw no one but the cellar staff opening barrels and carrying their contents away. Quietly, he edged closer for a better look. He had tried to play in his chamber for a while, but he had quickly grown tired of shooting arrows at the leaves painted on the wall. Then he had draped his blanket over two chairs and pretended that he was King Thingol living safely in his enchanted forest. When a chambermaid had arrived to announce that it was time for his nap, Legolas did not feel sleepy at all. He had decided that, instead of being King Thingol, he would be Lúthien Tinúviel and run away into the wide world to look for a Silmaril.

He had not found a Silmaril yet, but he did see that one of the opened barrels contained apples. Deciding that even Lúthien Tinúviel had probably needed provisions on her quest, he crept closer to the apple barrel.

"There you are!" Legolas whirled around to see the chambermaid approaching him rapidly. "Those apples are not for stealing," she said. "They are for the feast tonight. Now, come with me. You must nap if you wish to sit up for the masque tonight." She reached out and took Legolas's arm.

"No!" he yelled. "No nap! I am not tired! Everyone is doing something, and I want to see!" He twisted out of her grip and ran down the corridors. Behind him, he heard the chambermaid swear and begin to run after him. Desperate for a safe place to hide, Legolas ran straight into the kitchens, where an Elf carrying a large tray of freshly baked rolls nearly tripped over him. More angry voices erupted, and Legolas threw himself down in a corner and began to cry.

"Here now, what is this?" a friendly voice said. Legolas looked up and saw Galion the butler, whom he liked very much. He sniffled and mopped at his eyes with his sleeve. Galion laughed and pulled him to his feet.

"You look like a thundercloud," he said. "What is the matter? Have you had too much Yule? Or perhaps too little?" he added, contemplating the scruffy, miserable child before him. Legolas scowled silently at the floor. Galion sighed. "I do not know what has made you so angry, child," he said, "but we cannot let such a rage as yours go to waste. Come. As it happens, there is a task here that you may do for me. I think that, in your present state, you will enjoy it."

Galion sat Legolas down at a worktable and set a large mortar and pestle before him. Then he turned to a basin and lifted out a colander filled with beautiful, iridescent beetle shells, which he poured into the mortar. "I washed these shells this morning, and they are clean and dry now," he said. "Take the pestle and crush them into a powder." He showed Legolas how to use the pestle to grind the shells against the mortar.

"I mash the beetle shells," Legolas said, as he carefully wielded the heavy pestle himself. "What are they for? Will we eat mashed beetle shells at the feast?"

"No," Galion laughed. "They are for the masque. When you have mashed them all, I will mix them with bear grease, and the dancers will paint themselves with it."

Pleased that Galion thought him old enough to do something to help prepare for the masque, Legolas concentrated hard on crushing the beetle shells perfectly. When he had finished, the shells were reduced to a glittering powder, and Legolas was finally so tired that he made no objection when the chambermaid reappeared to carry him off for a nap.

As he had promised, Luindil stopped by Legolas's chamber before he went to prepare for his role in the masque. Menellir had already arrived to help Legolas dress for the feasting and celebration, and Legolas ran excitedly to greet Luindil and show off the little wooden squirrel that Menellir had carved as a Yule gift for him. Luindil admired the squirrel and then took his leave, explaining that the other dancers needed him and the supplies he was bringing from the kitchens. He showed Legolas the pots containing bear grease mixed with soot to darken the faces of some of the dancers and the pot with the glittering beetle-shell paint.

"I helped make that," Legolas announced. "I mashed the beetle shells."

"Really?" Luindil said. "In that case, I will be sure to mention it to the dancer who will be using this paint. He will be glad to know that it was you who helped prepare it for him."

With that, Luindil went on to the dancing chamber, which was filled with dancers and musicians eating a quick meal, making last-minute adjustments to their costumes and tuning their instruments. He gave the pots of dark paint to Gilveril and the other sword dancers and placed the beetle-shell paint before Thranduil.

"Here is your paint, King Thranduil," he said. "Use it carefully, for it is special paint, and will bring you good luck."

Thranduil swallowed the last of a dried berry tart and reached for one of the many small washbasins scattered about the room. "How is it special?" he asked.

"It comes with a great deal of love. Legolas helped to make this paint today."

Thranduil gave a brilliant smile, the brightest one Luindil had seen on him in months. "If that is so, then I will dance perfectly tonight," he said. "And then I will thank Legolas personally when the ceremony is over."

Luindil returned the smile. "You will indeed, Thranduil," he said. "That is just what she would have wanted. Make her proud." Then he turned and went in search of his fringed leather dancing tunic.

The Silvan Elves' Yule ceremony began just after sundown. As the sun slipped completely below the horizon, the entire population of the settlement crowded into the Great Hall. Galion rang a large bell, gave a short speech of thanks to the Valar for the winter provisions, and the feast began. The Elves had venison, pheasant, rabbit and fish to eat, and many bowls of fruit, nuts and different cooked vegetables lined the tables as well. In addition to bread made of everyday acorn and chestnut flour, there were loaves of light wheat bread and little pots of butter and jugs of milk imported from Lake Town to supplement the wine, water and cider that filled the Elves' goblets. Legolas eagerly drank a cup of the rich, creamy milk and licked the last drops from his upper lip. There was enough food for everyone to eat as much as they wanted, and Menellir gave Legolas a second piece of venison and an extra spoonful of mashed chestnuts even before Legolas could ask for them.

When the Elves had eaten their fill, they pushed the tables to the edges of the Great Hall, clearing the space in the center for the masque. They pulled the benches and chairs from the feast into a rough circle around the cleared space. Then they snuffed most of the torches lining the hall and moved the candelabra so that the Hall was dark, and only the center was dimly lit. The preparations over, they moved to find seats to witness the masque. Menellir sat down beside Doronrîn, settled Legolas on his lap, and the masque began.

Somewhere in the darkness, a single flute could be heard. It played a short, simple tune that rolled up and down and seemed to circle around itself. Quietly, a line of six figures danced into the circle of candlelight, moving at a measured, deliberate pace. The dancers all wore pale, fringed buckskin tunics and leggings. Dark leather hoods covered their heads, and each dancer carried a pair of antlers over his head.

"They are the deer, who lived in the forest before the Elves, and whose lives sustain our own," Menellir murmured to Legolas. He indicated one of the dancers. "Do you see? That one is Luindil." Legolas looked, and saw that one of the faces beneath the antlers was indeed Luindil's.

Solemnly, with regal dignity, the Horn Dancers stepped through their sinuous pattern. They wove around each other, crossing and re-crossing their paths, circling around each other. Every so often, they would find themselves in two lines, and then the lines would advance and greet each other, inclining their heads so that the antlers clicked gently together. The only sounds in the Great Hall were the flute and the click of antlers.

Legolas felt that he could have watched the Horn Dance forever, mesmerized by the repetition of the simple tune and the slow, intricate pattern of the dance. After a while, it seemed to him that there was nothing else in the world beyond the quiet circles of the forest deer. And then, just as quietly, without changing their calm, measured pace, the Horn Dancers finished their final circle and filed back into the darkness. The flute continued to play as the last dancer vanished into the shadows.

A fiddle burst into a bright, leaping melody, and a drum pounded out an infectious rhythm as a dancer costumed as the great King of the Stags sprang into the circle of light. His over-tunic was a rich dark brown, and a white linen shirt flashed beneath it. On his head was a great headdress of deer hide stretched over a light wooden frame from which two enormous antlers protruded. The antlers were cleverly built into the headdress so that they stayed in place, leaving the dancer's arms free. He whirled and leaped high into the air, and all the Elves applauded his skill.

"I knew Inglor could dance, but I had no idea that his talent was so great," Menellir whispered to Doronrîn. On his lap, Legolas gazed at the King Stag in awe and thought that nothing could be so magnificent. But then a horn blared out a fanfare, and a second dancer entered the circle.

His tunic shone white in the candlelight, and a short scarlet cape was around his shoulders. His belt was of gold, and his golden headdress gleamed. His hands were covered by hunter's gauntlets, but his face glittered, iridescent as beetle shells. He spun gracefully across the circle, coming to rest with his arms outstretched in a gesture of welcome.

"That is Tauron, the Hunter King," Menellir told Legolas. "And he is your Ada." Legolas stared, fascinated. This strange, glittering being did not look at all like his Ada at first glance. But, now that Menellir had told him, he thought that the face beneath the golden crown did look like his Ada. Somehow, Thranduil had transformed himself into this strange, glittering being, radiating strength and joy. Surely, his Ada was healed, and nothing could hurt him now. Legolas cheered and clapped his hands.

The two Kings faced each other across the circle and bowed. As the music of the fiddle and the horn swirled above the insistent rhythm of the drum, the Hunter King pursued the Stag King, gliding and twisting as if through the deepest parts of the forest. Sometimes the Hunter crouched low, stalking the Stag with the utmost control and silence. Other times, the Stag would leap high into the air, rejoicing in the thrill of escaping the Hunter.

Elves dressed entirely in black knelt at the edges of the light and thrust branches between the Hunter and his prey. The Stag jumped gracefully over the branches and looked back at the Hunter, extending his hand in challenge. The Hunter followed, in a flurry of gold and white. The branches were raised a little higher, and the Stag jumped them again. Again, the Hunter followed. The watching Elves held their breath as the two dancers challenged each other to ever higher and more athletic jumps. Finally, with the branches as high as his shoulders, the Stag made a magnificent leap, so high that he seemed to float on the air for a moment before returning to earth. He turned and looked at the Hunter expectantly.

The Hunter danced gracefully to the edge of the circle and ran towards the barrier of branches. At the last moment, he turned a handspring and dived over the branches, twisting in mid-air to land on his feet a body's length away from the Stag. The watching Elves cheered. As the Elves in black lifted the branches away, the Hunter and the Stag whirled to face each other in the center of the circle. With surprising delicacy, they danced closely together, almost touching, before suddenly spinning away from each other in a great double spiral to the edges of the circle. The Hunter knelt and stretched out his hand. A spear was placed into it, its steel head shining bright and sharp.

Legolas sat frozen on Menellir's lap. He wondered if the Hunter King would actually kill the beautiful Stag who had danced with him. In one fluid motion, the Hunter rose, spun around and hurled the spear with all his might across the circle. Quicker than sight, the Stag reached up and caught it as it flew. To the sound of cheers and applause, he danced to the Hunter and knelt down, laying the spear at his feet in a gesture of graceful surrender. The horns blew a fanfare, the drums beat a tattoo, and Legolas found himself cheering for the Hunter King, his strong, powerful Ada who had defeated the Stag.

The Stag withdrew into the darkness. Abruptly, the music stopped, and the Hunter stood still and straight. A pipe and tabor sounded, a simple whistling melody punctuated by the quiet taps of the drum. Menellir cuddled Legolas close. "First comes Winter, then comes Spring," he whispered. Six small, slender adolescent dancers appeared in a line. They were dressed entirely in dark brown. Their faces were blacked with soot and grease and shadowed in dark hoods. Each carried a blunt-tipped sword. Legolas looked at the swords and thought that one of the dancers must be Gilveril.

The Sword Dancers circled around each other, their swords raised. Six times they tapped the swords together, then they each grasped the tip of their neighbor's sword. Linked into a circle, they danced in ever-changing loops, weaving over and around and through each other. They held up their swords and danced under them, or lowered them to step delicately over, all in time to the gentle tapping of the tabor. Legolas bounced a little in time with the music.

"I could do that," he told Menellir.

"Perhaps you will, when you are old enough," Menellir said.

The Sword Dancers briefly broke their circle and marched through several patterns of complicated double loops. Then they re-formed the loop, circling and twisting under their swords until they were huddled together in a small rotating knot. Mysterious clanking sounds came from the knot, and Legolas strained to see what they were doing. After a few seconds, Gilveril straightened and raised above her head a six-pointed star that the dancers had made by weaving the swords together. Amazed by this clever trick, Legolas applauded along with the rest of the Elves.

Now the pipe played faster and louder, and the Sword Dancers circled around, clapping their hands along with the insistent rhythm of the tabor. Legolas leaned closer, almost forgetting to breathe. Thranduil, the Hunter King, stepped willingly into the center of the circle, and Gilveril lowered the linked swords over his head. He stood arrow-straight, the star of swords about his neck, as the Sword Dancers circled closer and closer about him, clapping along to the driving pace of the pipe and tabor. Just when it seemed that they would have to break into a run, the tabor made a last hard tap, and the dancers froze, each grasping the hilt of a sword in the star around the Hunter King's neck. With a resounding shing of metal against metal, they pulled the star apart. The Hunter King fell to the ground and was still.

And in the silence that followed, Legolas began to scream in absolute terror. He wailed for his Ada and his Nana as if his heart would break. Menellir held him close and murmured soothing words as he carried Legolas out of the Great Hall. The Sword Dancers scattered into the darkness.