Disclaimer: Just borrowing for a bit, I’ll return them unharmed.

Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and sticking with this fic. It was originally intended to be perhaps 4 or 5 chapters and a one-shot deal. 23 chapters and four sequels later here we are and I’ve loved every minute of it. Thank you very much and I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

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                                               It was well past noon when Elrond roused from his rest. Although he was still weary, he made his way to the Hall to check on Thranduil and Legolas. Estel greeted him with a smile and pressed food and drink on him before he could reach the wood elves’ pallets.

                                                “Eat, Ada before you do anything else. Legolas woke an hour ago and King Thranduil is well, but still asleep.” Estel had been around elves far too long not to be able to read the signs of fatigue in his foster father. Elrond accepted the meal with good grace.

                                                “I presume Legolas is outside?” He arched a brow at Estel and the human grinned.

                                                “You know he hates being cooped up. He did not even pause long enough to tie his hair out of his face. He will either be up a tree or on the highest rooftop of the Keep by now.” Estel chuckled, shaking his head at his friend’s idiosyncrasies. “I did manage to get him to eat something on his way out.”

                                                “He will return shortly, I imagine, as Thranduil has not yet awakened. Has Elladan emerged from his room yet?”

                                                “Not yet,” Estel replied. “Elrohir went to check on him a little while ago and has not returned, so he may well be awake.” He looked up as the twins entered the Hall. “Speaking of orcs, here they are.” He gave his foster brothers a cheeky grin.

                                                “Orcs, are we? Estel, you are certainly brave today.” Elladan glanced at Elrohir. “Brother what say you, shall we wipe the grin from his face before or after we rub it in the dirt?” Estel was out the door of the Hall like a shot with the twins in close pursuit. Elrond massaged his temples, his sons had a veritable knack for choosing the days he least felt up to dealing with their high spirits to indulge in them. He only hoped that Elrohir remembered that he was injured before they caught Estel.

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                                                Legolas sat cross-legged atop the armory roof. It was not the highest roof, but it had the best exposure to the afternoon sun. He raised his face to the sky and closed his eyes, simply happy to be alive. The elf’s keen hearing picked up birdsong, the thunk of arrows hitting targets on the archery range below his perch, and dozens of conversations from the ground below him. A moment later, he picked up the sound of running human feet and the much softer footfalls of elves and he grinned shaking his head. Peering over the edge of the roof, he spied Estel running for all he was worth and the twins rapidly gaining on him. He whistled sharply, catching the human’s attention and Estel made a beeline for him.  Estel reached the wall under his friend’s seat scant seconds later and Legolas caught his outstretched hand and hauled him up onto the roof. Estel paused just long enough to clasp his friend’s shoulder briefly before scrambling across the roof and down the other side. Legolas sat back and watched as Elladan and Elrohir scaled the wall and leapt up to the roof.

                                               “Which way did he go, Legolas?” Elladan fixed him with a glare. Legolas merely smiled sweetly.

                  
                                                “Elladan, do you not think that you can catch one skinny adan [man] without my assistance? Your reputation may be in jeopardy if this is so.” He wore the ‘innocent elfling’ look that his father most dreaded. Elladan growled in mock-annoyance and scrambled down the other side of the armory. Elrohir made his way with much more care, favoring his injury. Legolas chuckled, raking his hair out of his eyes and jumped down to the courtyard. He made his way past the archers, intent on returning to the Hall before his father awoke. The raised voices of children drew his attention and he changed direction as he recognized Lilia’s voice. The little girl sounded very upset.

                                                 “Adran, you big bully! Give me back my doll!” Lilia stamped her foot in the dust, her brown eyes narrowed in annoyance. The afore named bully grinned and tossed the doll up into the lone tree that grew in the courtyard. Lilia howled and launched herself at the older boy, her fists striking every part of his anatomy she could reach. Adran grabbed her hair and yanked, causing the child to scream. Legolas started toward them to intervene. Suddenly a voice came from behind them.

                                                  “What is this?” The voice’s owner, a boy perhaps two or three years Adran’s senior stood, hands on hips glaring at Adran. Adran immediately released Lilia and cast his eyes down scuffing his toe in the dirt.

                                                  “Nothing, my lord,” was his reply.

                                                   “Nothing? Would you like to explain to me why you were pulling the hair of a child half your size?” The boy waited, eyebrow raised. There was no response. He turned to Lilia. “Lilia, would you like to tell me what happened?”

                                                    “He t-t-t-took m-m-m-my d-d-d-doll and t-t-t-threw h-h-her int-t-t-t-to the t-t-t-tree!” The child was sobbing almost too hard to be understood, but the boy got the gist of her statement. He drew her to him and smoothed her hair, calming her. His attention then returned to the bully.

                                                     “Adran, you may report to the stables and assist the stable hands in mucking out the stalls until dinner. At that point you are your father’s problem and be assured that he shall hear of this. Go.” His tone and stance brooked no argument and the bully left without a word. The boy then turned his attention back to the little girl. “There now, little one. He is gone and will spend the rest of the day shoveling out nasty horse stalls in the barn for what he has done.”

                                                    “Daeren, can you reach my doll?” He looked up into the tree and judged the distance, frowning.

                                                    “No, I do not believe I can reach it. Perhaps if I lift you up you could. Shall we try it?” At her nod, he hefted her into his arms and lifted her above his head. Daeren was tall for his fifteen years, but not nearly enough for this task. The doll was well out of reach lodged in the crook of a branch several feet from the trunk. The sight brought a grin to Legolas’ face as he revealed his presence.

                                                “Perhaps I could be of assistance here.” He grinned at Lilia and bowed slightly to Daeren, placing his hand on his chest and sweeping it outward. Lilia launched herself from Daeren’s arms into Legolas’. He caught her easily and his grin widened as she hugged him tightly and kissed both his cheeks. He set her on her feet and addressed the boy.

                                                “Mae Govannen, Daeren is it?” The boy nodded and bowed, making the same gesture that Legolas had.

                                                “Mae Govannen, Legolas Thranduilion. Ernil Legolas [prince], I am honored to meet you. I am Daeren son of Feren.” He stated formally, switching to Westron mid speech as his knowledge of Sindarin failed him. Legolas, pleasantly surprised at the youngster’s formal greeting offered his arm in the fashion of warriors when greeting an equal. The boy returned the gesture gravely, the honor of being offered it not lost on him. A tug on the hem of Legolas’ tunic drew his attention back to Lilia.

                                                “Legolas, can you reach my dolly?” He grinned at her and tweaked her nose playfully.

                                                “Well, I shall try at least.” With that he leapt up into the branches, catching one several feet above their heads easily and he swung himself up with the grace only a wood elf could have managed. Seconds later he had the doll and dropped back down lightly to land next to the children. With a smile, he handed the doll back to its owner and received his reward of another kiss. A laugh from the direction of the archery range caught the attention of all three. Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel approached, grins gracing their faces.

                                              “Legolas, the mighty rescuer of toys!” Elrohir jibed at his friend.

                                              “I would rather be that than the chaser of skinny edain [men] like yourself,” Legolas retorted, eyes dancing with humor. Elrohir growled in mock-anger and made to swing at Legolas, who ducked and laughing, pulled the other’s feet out from under him. Elrohir landed hard on his posterior. He lunged at Legolas and the prince dodged, but Elrohir caught his ankle and Legolas fell hard on his face in the dust. Elrohir was on him before he could recover, and grabbed a handful of the loose blond hair, his good hand grabbing the wood elf’s wrist and hauling his arm up behind his back. He pressed Legolas’ face into the dirt then leapt away before the prince could break his hold and turn the tables on him. Legolas rolled onto his back and jumped to his feet. He was a mess, his hair and face coated with dust, his tunic torn and likewise dusty. He fixed Elrohir with a glare that boded ill for the dark haired elf.

                                               “Orc-spit, you are truly fortunate that you are wounded or you would now be head down in the midden heap.” He held the glare for only a few seconds before breaking up with laughter. “I shall pay you back for that, mellon, when you least expect it so beware.” Elrohir stuck his tongue out at his friend, eliciting giggles from Lilia whose presence the elves had quite forgotten. Daeren cleared his throat, obviously unsure of what to make of the elves’ behavior. Estel took pity on him.

                                               “Peace, Daeren they are just joking. They have been friends all Legolas’ life.” Estel’s explanation had little effect on the puzzled expression on the boy’s face.

                                               “But are they not grown, then? I do not know everything about elves it is true, but I had thought they were.” Daeren queried, meeting Estel’s eyes. Estel grinned slyly as he replied.

                                               “In years yes, but elves mature much slower than humans do.” He winked at the boy as his statement registered with his brothers and then it was time for Estel to have his face in the dirt for the second time that morning.

                                                Legolas watched the brothers grappling, a slight smile playing about his lips. He caught Daeren’s eye and winked, a devilish grin crossing his features briefly. As suddenly as it had begun, the wrestling match was over and all three stood. Legolas’ foot swept out almost too quickly to be seen and Elrohir fell backwards into the watering trough that sat under the tree. He sat back up, his wet hair plastered to his face and the dust on his hair, face, and clothing turning to watery mud and glared at his brothers, friend, and Lilia who were howling with laughter. Daeren bit his lip, trying not to laugh. It was very funny, but he knew his father would not approve. A shout of laughter from behind them startled all six into silence. Feren and Elrond approached, Feren laughing openly and Elrond wearing an expression of annoyance. Feren tousled his son’s hair.

                                                 “Go ahead and laugh, son. I gave up trying to keep a straight face around the sons of Elrond long ago.” He cast a sideways glance at Elrond who fixed the three elves and Estel with a stern glare. The corners of his mouth were twitching, however and he was unable to maintain the glare for more than a minute before dissolving into helpless chuckles at the sight of his younger son sitting in the horse trough.

                                                 “Should I even ask who started this debacle?” He finally managed. Two sets of elven eyes and one set of human eyes turned to look at Elrohir. Elrond stifled another laugh. “I might have known. I despair of any of you ever behaving like adults.”

                                                 “Ada, refresh my memory please. Who was it that placed the purging draught in Glorfindel’s dinner last month?” Elladan asked wearing his most innocent expression. His brothers and Legolas snickered at that and Feren stared at Elrond in utter shock. The lord of Imladris sighed heavily.

                                                “And what would you have done to the individual who replaced your bathing oil with oil from stinging nettles? I itched for a week. He would have fared far worse at your hands I am certain.”

                                                 “I am not so certain of that, Ada. Elves do not usually vomit, much less as copiously as he did that night.” Elladan grinned unrepentantly at his father who arched a brow at him.

                                                  “Nonsense, he only did it twice. I am a better judge of my dosages than that; I will thank you to remember. He was being overly dramatic to gain sympathy from the ellyth [maidens].” Elrond wore a rather smug expression. Feren shook his head.

                                                   “Lord Elrond, remind me never to anger you, “he chuckled. “ I am curious, do all elves indulge in such pursuits when left to themselves, of is it particular to Rivendell?” Feren’s slight grin made it impossible to ascertain whether or not the human was joking or asking a genuine question.

                                                    “ It is generally only the very young,” Elrond emphasized fixing his sons and Legolas with a pointed stare, “ that indulge, however Glorfindel decided long ago that I was far too serious and plagues me at times with this type of nonsense. I have had to become proficient at giving better than I get to ward off even more of it. As for these four, youth and high spirits are the reason. Legolas, your father will wake soon. I suggest you go and tidy yourself.”  He gave a brief chuckle at the speed with which Legolas complied. The other three also beat a retreat to the Keep to bathe. With Legolas gone, Lilia drifted off as well and Daeren politely bade Elrond and his father farewell and made his way to the archery range.

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                                                       Legolas had thought to quickly make his way through the Hall en route to bathing rooms but as he entered, he saw his father sitting in one of the chairs facing the door very much awake. Thranduil looked up from the mug of broth that Weder had handed him and frowned, taking in his son’s state of disarray. Legolas winced then straightened his shoulders and moved to his father’s side.

                                                       “I am very happy to see you awake, Ada. How are you feeling?” He caught the hand that Thranduil held out to him and gave it a squeeze. He sat down on the floor at his father’s feet. Thranduil’s frown had been replaced by an expression of amusement.

                                                     “I am considerably better than I was, but I have been informed that I am to do very little besides rest for several days.  Do I even wish to know why you look like you have been rolling on the ground?” He wore a droll half smile. Legolas grinned, knowing from Thranduil’s expression that he did not need to worry about lectures for today at least.

                                                     “I had a slight difference of opinion with Elrohir.” The innocent elfling look made reappearance, causing Thranduil to shake his head and sigh.

                                                       “By the look of it, you lost.” Legolas’ grin widened and he turned his head to look toward the door that the twins and Estel had just entered. Elrohir’s bedraggled state drew stares from all sides.

                                                 “No, Ada I think perhaps I may have won this one.” His chuckles were joined by his father’s and Weder’s.

                                                 “I see what you mean, ion-nin. Go to your bath, Legolas. I will still be awake when you get back.” He smiled fondly down at the dusty blond head at his knee. Legolas gave his hand a final squeeze and left for the bathing rooms.