Disclaimer: Don’t own any of it except my OC’s. Wish I did.

                                                A question came up about the reasons behind Elrond and Thranduil’s “punishment” of Legolas, Estel, and the twins. In answer, no they are not teenagers, despite the fact that they are behaving as if they were. Bear in mind that although Thranduil is Legolas’ father, he is also his king and therefore responsible for any diplomatic repercussions his actions may cause. Likewise Elrond is parent to the “terrible trio” but he is also Lord of Imladris and like Thranduil has the after affects of his sons’ and foster son’s actions placed squarely at his feet. Both Elrond and Thranduil acted with that in mind. They are beholden to Lord Feren and abuse of his hospitality could potentially have gotten them booted out of the Keep and left to the mercy of the orcs. The ages of the miscreants had no bearing on the matter. Hope that answers the question. Thanks for reading and asking questions of this quality.

                                                 On the subject of ages, Elladan’s, Elrohir’s, and Estel’s are a matter of record in the Appendices of “The Return of the King”, but Legolas’ age is not given. For that reason, there is much debate on that subject which I will not get into here. I choose, for this story, to make him somewhat younger than Arwen.

                                                            Chapter 15

                                              The four younger members of the group listened intently to the conversation between Elrond, Thranduil, and Haldir as they worked on the arrows. After the March Warden left, the twins and their foster brother discussed what they had overheard in whispers, careful not to speak loudly enough to attract the attention of their Adar. Legolas remained silent, apparently ignoring his companions. Estel shot him a worried look. The prince was normally reserved and quiet around those he did not know, but for him to remain this closemouthed was almost eerie, especially in the company of three of his closest friends. Estel studied him with a healer’s eye. Legolas was still paler than usual, and the effects of his injuries and the poison were still evident, but he looked a great deal better even than he had the day before. As there seemed to be no physical reason for his abnormal demeanor, Estel concluded that the reason must be emotional. He had seen Legolas after a verbal battle with his father before, and the younger elf had not displayed this degree of melancholy then. He laid his hand on his friend’s arm.

                                                  “Legolas, are you feeling unwell again?” Estel asked, concern written plainly across his tanned features. “I am certain your Adar would understand if you needed to go rest for awhile.” Legolas merely shook his head, not meeting Estel’s gaze. The twins ceased their discussion at this, turning their attention to Legolas as well.

                                               “Legolas, you have not been yourself all day. Are you certain you do not wish to rest? You nearly died, mellon-nin, there is certainly no shame in admitting that you are not yet recovered,” Elladan pointed out sagely. He was the eldest of the four of them and felt that it made him responsible for the welfare of the younger ones namely Legolas, who was several decades younger than his sister, and Estel. That it annoyed both of them to no end in no way deterred him.

                                                  “Will you please refrain from treating me as if I was made of glass and about to shatter? I am nearly healed, leave me be.” Legolas ground out from between clenched teeth, scowling fiercely at Elladan. The uncharacteristic display of temper took the other three aback. Estel shifted his hand from Legolas’ left forearm to his left shoulder.

                                                 “Legolas, what is it?’ He spoke softly, eyes widening when Legolas shook off his hand angrily and turned his scowl on the young human.

                                                 “Are your ears filled with moss? I said to leave me be!” Legolas’ voice was a fierce hiss for even as angry as he apparently was he had not forgotten the need to keep his voice down. A long fingered hand came down upon his shoulder and he stiffened visibly.

                                                  “I believe we have enough arrows for tonight, do you not agree, Peredhel?” Thranduil lifted an eyebrow in inquiry, glancing at Elrond as he stood with his hand on his son’s shoulder. Elrond nodded impassively, his attention focused on Legolas. Both Thranduil and Elrond had witnessed the exchange between Legolas and Elrond’s sons and both were unsettled by it.

                                                 “Yes, I believe so. Elladan, you and your brothers may go now.” Elrond’s tone made the dismissal clear. The three departed, shooting sympathetic looks at Legolas as they left.

                                                  “Legolas, I think it best that we hold our discussion in our room. I also believe your presence is necessary, Lord Elrond, if you would be so kind as to accompany us.” Thranduil’s tone was not wrathful, causing his son to be both relieved and apprehensive at once. As the prince looked from one to the other, Elrond indicated his agreement. The elder elves exited the Hall, Legolas following reluctantly behind.

                                                    Once the door of their room had closed behind them, Thranduil gestured for Legolas to take a seat on his bed. The Elven king settled at the head of his own bed, and Elrond took a seat at the foot. Thranduil was silent for a few minutes, gathering his thoughts.

                                                     “Legolas, your behavior this last day or so is very disturbing. I can only conclude that the events of the last week are weighing on you. Ion-nin, you can come to either of us to unburden yourself. If you are more comfortable speaking to Lord Elrond, I will understand. Sometimes a father is too close to be an adequate confidante.” He paused, gauging his son’s reaction. Legolas said nothing, but his posture and averted face spoke volumes. It was clear to the elder two that he was trying to mask the grief he was beginning to feel over the demise of his companions and the survivor’s guilt that inevitably accompanied such grief.

                                                      “Legolas look at me. “ Thranduil spoke softly but firmly, rising to move across the small space between the beds to sit next to his son. Reaching out, he cupped Legolas’ chin in his hand and forced his son to meet his eyes.    “Rieon and Ilmrie were good friends and good warriors. It is right that we should mourn their loss, both theirs and all of the warriors who were lost, but they would not wish us to destroy ourselves in the process. That would make their deaths worse than meaningless.”  As he spoke, Thranduil held Legolas’ chin, refusing to let him look away. “You have lost friends before, I know, but never in this manner.  Never so close, and never have you come so close to death yourself. You must allow yourself to feel the grief so that you can move past it. Think you that I have not felt these things, too? I assure you that I have and I do.” He allowed a small, pained smile to grace his face briefly. “What I am asking that you allow either or both of us to assist you in, I have done myself with Lord Elrond’s assistance and will continue to do. It is a slow process, ion-nin, and painful but necessary. I know from whence I speak.” Legolas was visibly shaking and Thranduil could see tears welling in his eyes, but he was too much the warrior to readily release his emotions in such a manner before witnesses. Thranduil slid his hand from beneath his son’s chin to the back of his neck and pulled Legolas against his shoulder. That one act fractured Legolas’ reign on his emotions and he buried his face in his father’s shoulder, all pretense of calm disappearing. His hands came up, clenching handfuls of Thranduil’s tunic as he shook with soundless sobs. Thranduil wrapped his free arm around his son’s slender frame, supporting him.

                                                    Elrond watched silently, his heart bleeding for the younger elf.  He had witnessed loss countless times in his long life, and experienced far more of it than he would have wished.  He breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when Legolas finally surrendered to his father’s ministrations. Elrond had no doubt that Legolas still had far to go in his recovery, but he was now on the proper path. He had been injured before, but never to the point where death was likely until now. His confidence was severely shaken, and it would take time and the assistance of those who cared for him to repair it. Add to that the loss of several friends and warriors that he had known from birth and it was a wonder that he had not succumbed sooner. This elfling was strong indeed, Elrond thought.

                                                    On impulse, he rose and moved to sit behind Legolas, placing his hand on the younger elf’s back in a comforting manner. Legolas gave no indication that he noticed, but Thranduil met Elrond’s eyes over his son’s head nodding his thanks. Elrond smiled in return, allowing his healing strength to flow into the younger elf, comforting and relaxing him slowly. After long minutes had passed, Legolas’ shuddering ceased and he sagged in his father’s embrace. Thranduil looked down at his son’s face and was surprised to find him deeply asleep. He glanced at Elrond in askance.

                                                     “He will sleep for some time, “Elrond answered softly. “ Do not fear for him, it is only sleep and he needs it as much as he needed to release his grief.” Thranduil nodded, relieved, and shifted to arrange Legolas comfortably on his bed. Elrond moved to assist him and soon they had the prince settled in bed, his boots removed and covers tucked around him. The two exited the room quietly, not wishing to disturb his slumber. Thranduil closed the door soundlessly and turned, placing his back against the stone wall and slumping in a less than dignified manner.

                                                       “Thank the Valar that he did not fight us more than he did. I feel as if I have been trampled by a pack of orcs and wargs. Were we ever that stubborn?” He closed his eyes and rested his head back against the cool stone of the corridor wall. Elrond chuckled.

                                                 “ ‘Were‘, mellon? Legolas is truly your son in that respect, I fear,” Elrond teased lightly, as relieved and nearly as drained as his companion.             “ Although the evening meal is past, I feel that we should eat something after our ordeal, and I know wine would be welcome refreshment for us both. Come, let us seek out Lord Feren’s housekeeper and request it.” Thranduil shook his head, laughing softly.

                                                   “ By the time this is over, we truly will have a reputation as complete sots. Do you suppose we could start some tales about dwarves? It would only seem fair to share the attention.” Elrond laughed outright at the notion, knowing Thranduil’s less than friendly view of dwarves. He did not wish to know what was in the King of Mirkwood’s mind to say. He made the mistake of catching Thranduil’s eye at that point, and both dissolved helplessly into fits of laughter, as much from the release of tension as anything else. It was at this point that Elrond’s sons and foster son chose to approach.

                                                     All three surveyed the scene before them with astonishment. That their father possessed a fine sense of humor they had long known, but Thranduil seldom displayed any inkling of such. To find the two of them doubled over and laughing like elflings was nothing less than shocking. Predictably, Elladan recovered first.

                                                      “ Since you seem so very merry, are we to assume that Legolas is still in one piece?” Elladan arched a brow in an uncanny imitation of his sire. This sobered the elder elves in short order. Clearing his throat, Thranduil replied.

                                                       “ He is sleeping. Elladan, Estel, do not take his manner with you tonight to heart. The events of the last week are weighing heavily on him.” It was then that they noticed the dampness on Thranduil’s shoulder and the crumpled condition of his tunic.

                                                        “ Is he all right? “ Estel asked, deeply concerned.

                                                         “ He will be, in time, and with our help. I know that we can count on the three of you to do all that you can to assist him.” Elrond smiled at his sons reassuringly. All three nodded in affirmation of his statement. “ Good, I had no doubt of it. Now, Thranduil, let us get you fed and sufficiently supplied with liquid refreshment, shall we?” He was answered with an amused snort from the Elven king, much to the surprise of the younger three.

                                                 “ Estel, would you stay with him, please? I do not want him to wake to an empty room.” Thranduil favored the young human with a slight smile, sensing that he would have offered to do so if he had not been asked. Estel smiled in return and slipped silently into the room as the others headed down the corridor.