Summary: Young Legolas asks his Ada a hard question. T.A. 2319.

"Ada, why do the Men cut down the trees? The trees never did anything to them," Legolas whispered, leaning against his Adar's knees. Thranduil cuddled Legolas close to his side. Thranduil's youngest, the little Prince was fairer spoken at ten coronari than Thranduil himself had been at that age; less innocent, and more observant.

"The Men need wood to build their homes, to light their cooking fires, and for many other reasons, Legolas," Thranduil said gently. "You are too young to remember, but we did not always dwell in these halls. Once upon a time we, too, were obliged to fell trees for building." Thranduil's voice was deep with regret. "The forest will grow overcrowded if some of the trees are not removed, and that is not healthy."

"But they take too many!" Legolas cried out. "The trees say so!"

Thranduil stilled, looking down at his youngest. "Do they, guren?" he asked softly. Legolas nodded vehemently. "They do. They say so, Ada. I heard them."

"Then we shall make sure they do not take too many from now on," Thranduil said firmly. He had learned to listen to the wood, though he now dwelt in halls of stone. "We will let the trees know." Satisfied, Legolas snuggled into his father's embrace.