Hi there! I'm Jade, or more properly called, the Jade Raven of Rivendell! Saesa omentien lle! (Pleasure meeting you!)

This isn't my first Lord of the Rings fanfic, I recently put up The Army Man, which was my first attempt XD (Pweeze go check it out :3) But I'm back again with another go at the Lord of the Rings genre!

Part of this story will be explained in an upcoming fic called All Hallow's Eve, which I'm hoping to put up around Halloween, but no promises - my trademark on this site is my problems with procrastination XD Anyhoo, enough talk, on with the chappie!

Disclaimer: I do not own canon Lord of the Rings places or characters, I do, however, own the characters Esgalnor and Rospen. And anything marked with a little "*" has a footnote at the end of the chapter.

Chapter I: Homecoming

3019 T.A.
The 5th day of Hísimë*
The noon hour

It was a day of celebration in the forests of Greenwood the Great. King Thranduil's son, Prince Legolas, was returning home after nearly a year aiding the armies of Men battle against the dark and terrible Lord Sauron in the conflict which was later christened the War of the Ring.

While the Elves of Mirkwood were unable to join the bulk of the fighting in the regions of Rohan and Gondor, having to defend their own borders from Dark forces, they were more than relieved to have the youngest son of their king return from battle.

Most glad of all the Elves at Prince Legolas's homecoming was Thranduil himself, the great Elvenking. When the party he had sent to the Valley of Imladris almost a year ago as representatives at the council of Lord Elrond Half-elven had returned without his son, and brought the news that he had vowed to aid the bearer of the vile One Ring of Power in a quest to destroy the wicked object, Thranduil had been more than concerned.

But now he knew it had been folly to worry: Legolas was a capable warrior―one of Middle-Earth's keenest archers, and his skill with blades was unmatched by Elves far older than him. He remembered the young prince's dance with danger from just over sixty years ago―and how it changed the Elvenking's behavior towards his son.

Once there was a time when Thranduil cared not whether Legolas would return from patrolling the treacherous forest of Mirkwood wounded―or did not even return at all. He allowed himself to become distant with his son, treating him as a prince and a possible heir, but not truly as one's flesh and blood deserved.

Then when Legolas directly defied his orders, leaving the kingdom with the captain of the guard with full knowledge of his father's command to remain in the forest to chase after a pack of Orcs, Thranduil realized that no matter how hard he tried to stifle it, he cared very much for his youngest child. And after the Battle of the Five Armies, he let Legolas know this, and did his best to develop the relationship he had deprived both himself and his son of during the prince's adolescence.

Of course, as with any relationship, there were bumps along the way―not the least of which being the fact that Legolas disappeared into the North in search of a young Dunedain Ranger (on his own advice, Thranduil recalled now), and did not return to Mirkwood for about ten years, and then the Elvenking's repeated mistake of underestimating his son's independence, but slowly, surely, a bond began to form between king and prince―a bond that was now not so easily broken.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Every day since the news arrived that the dark Lord Sauron was defeated for good and that Aragorn son of Arathorn (incidentally, the Ranger whom Legolas sought out all those years before) had been crowned the rightful king of Gondor, Thranduil had taken to waiting at the gates of his palace, hopefully watching for his son to come riding down the path.

Now the day had arrived―he could feel it in his heart. He knew he could have merely put his Elvish-sight into effect and he could have possibly seen where Legolas was, but he did not.

Thranduil savored the painfully wonderful anticipation―while he was mildly daunted by the very real prospect of a much-mangled Elven-prince coming up to the gates, he knew that even if his son bore battle scars that would leave a permanent mark, he would not shy away from welcoming him as a valiant warrior, and as a beloved son.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was the fifth day of Hisimë, about midday. Thranduil had only paused his watch and wait at the gates to partake in a meal he showed hardly any interest in.

Esgalnor, his loyal advisor and most trusted friend, watched the king pick uninterestedly at his salad, barely touching anything. "Hir-nin, I know you're eager for the return of your son," he said carefully, "but I don't think starving yourself is the best way to publicly display that desire."

"I haven't been starving myself, Esgalnor―"

"When was the last time you remember eating a full meal since you heard Legolas was nearing our borders?"

"Er. . ." Now that he thought about it, Thranduil realized, with a startled jolt, that he did not remember.

Esgalnor sighed. "That's what I thought. I've already had to coax young Rospen back into regular eating patterns twice now - I'd prefer not to have to do it with you, hir-nin."

Rospen was Legolas's maidservant, and Esgalnor recalled, with a minute wince, the young Elleth's insistence on a hunger strike when Legolas had departed for Rivendell nearly a year ago. It had taken several months of gentle and firm instruction to persuade Rospen into eating normally again―and he was now struggling to keep it that way when the prince's female attendant learned that her master was coming home.

"That girl idolizes my son," Thranduil sighed wearily, but now eating with distinctly more vigor than he had been a few moments ago. "I don't think it's very healthy - I'm half-tempted to dismiss her."

"That's not very wise, given that she is Legolas's servant, and not yours per se," Esgalnor warned. "But I can offer a suggestion - wait until Legolas has readjusted to his routine here, then bring up the subject of his maidservant. Unless, of course, he brings it up himself - but in either case, you can then discuss a course of action to take."

"Yes, yes, I'll do that," Thranduil said distractedly, half-listening to his counselor. "Thank you, Esgalnor."

Esgalnor sighed. Well, this was better than how he would react when his son was returning from beyond our borders in the past, he thought as he turned back to his own meal, watching Thranduil out of the corner of his eye.

But before he could bring up another topic of conversation, the captain of the guard, Feren by name, arrived, slightly breathless, in the throne room. "Thranduil-Hir!" He dipped into a short bow. "A scout has just reported that Prince Legolas is nearing the palace! He should be arriving any minute!"

Without a response, Thranduil quickly, but with a certain amount of dignity, jumped up from his seat and with long, swift strides, fast-walked down the pathway towards the gates, ornate robes billowing out behind him as he half-walked, half-ran.

"He's going to to hurt himself, I know it!" Esgalnor darted from his seat to follow his king, Feren at his side.

"You're the most paranoid Elf I've ever met, Esgalnor," Feren sighed wearily. "He's less liable to trip over his robes than you are. Our king is a great many things, but he is not clumsy."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

By the time Esgalnor and Feren had caught up to Thranduil, the Elvenking had his frosty blue eyes fixed intently on the road leading up to the gates, watching. Waiting. His senses were on high alert, hoping to catch even a whisper of noise that signalled Legolas's presence. The advisor and the captain of the guard stood a respectful few feet back from the gates. Their king should greet his son alone.

There was a perfect full minute of silence. Not a single noise but that of the soft wind rustling the fallen autumn leaves which covered the ground in a crisp, colorful blanket.

Then, Thranduil's ears pricked. He heard the sound of one solitary horse's hooves, steadily growing clearer, crunching the leaves at it trotted nearer to the gates. His eyes, which had momentarily dropped to his boots, now darted up to the road, and what he now saw made his heart leap.

A white stallion was drawing to the stone path bridging the palace to the woodland road, bearing a young blond Elf whose visage was so familiar and so loved by the Elvenking. Leaping nimbly from his mount, the rider took the horse's reins and started walking across the bridge towards the gates.

Thranduil wanted to run forward and embrace his son so hard, but he exercised, although so unwillingly, his personal restraint, and waited for the Elf to come to him.

Legolas stopped right in front of his father, releasing the horse's reins while meeting Thranduil's gaze, mouth curving into a small smile. He still looked as fair-faced and youthful as he had before his departure from Greenwood, and his quiet, gentle smile still warmed Thranduil down to his innermost being. But the Elvenking could see a new maturity in Legolas's eyes - a maturity that gave his son a sort of regality in his bearing that he had not seen before.

The two gazed at each other in silence for a moment, both Elves drinking in the other's presence. Then, with a paternal smile, Thranduil embraced his son, gripping Legolas in a tight hug. "Welcome home," he said quietly into his ear. "Nae saian luume', ion-nin."

"Yes, it has," Legolas answered. "I'm glad to be home." His soft lips gently pressed to his father's cheek. "I've missed you, Adar."

"Not nearly as much as I've missed you, las-nin," Thranduil smiled, stroking his son's golden locks as he placed a fatherly kiss to Legolas's forehead.

"I have much to tell you, but I―I―"

"You are tired, I can feel it," Thranduil said gently, finally, but oh-so-reluctantly, releasing his son from his arms. "And―" he made a mildly unpleasant expression "―while I can detect a very faint bath scent on you, you still smell of wet horse."

Legolas laughed, and Thranduil did too - it was as if his beloved youngest son had never left. "I haven't had the luxury of a bath―or even a change of clothes, unfortunately―since I departed from Minas Tirith nearly a fortnight ago," the prince admitted with a rueful smile.

"Go on ahead to your chambers, then," the Elvenking said, smiling. "A bath will do you more good than just rinsing away the grime and stench of the road. Take as much time as you desire - I want you to be fully rested before we speak of anything more."

"Hannon le, Adar." Legolas could not hide the gratitude in his voice - Thranduil hid a chuckle behind his hand as he remembered a time when he could never convince his son, then a playful young Elfling, to take a bath for longer than five minutes.

Legolas's horse, who had remained silent during the exchange between father and son, emitted an annoyed whinny, as if demanding, "Oi, what about me?"

Legolas gently stroked the animal's muzzle, murmuring, "Shh, shh, I haven't forgotten about you, mellon-nin." Turning back to Thranduil, he asked, "Is it all right if a guard takes Arod down to the stables to be fed and watered? I'd do it myself, but, as you already guessed, I'm feeling rather spent." Peering over his father's shoulder, a small smirk played on his lips. "Mannos Feren or Esgalnor?"

Turning to see where Legolas was looking, Thranduil's expression mirrored that of his son's. Esgalnor and Feren froze as they tried to duck behind the open gates. "All right, you two, I know you've been hiding back there," the Elvenking called, smirking at the looks of panic on the two Elves' faces. "But since you're here, why don't you make yourselves useful and escort the prince's horse down to the stables?"

"Yes, hir-nin!" Somewhat sheepish, Feren and Esgalnor accepted the reins from the amused Legolas, who whispered something in Arod's ear before letting the white stallion go. The prince laughed as the two Elves hurried away, Arod following them with a rather bored look on his equine features. "Those two are really a pair, aren't they, Adar?" he remarked, turning back to his father.

"Indeed - on the one hand we have the relaxed captain of the guard, and on the other we have the paranoid counselor. It's a wonder they've maintained a friendship for this long - and survived."

Legolas's reply was interrupted by a loud yawn, supplied by the self-same Elf-prince. "I think I'll be going to take that bath now," he said, stifling another yawn. "I'll let myself in through the back, Adar - to be honest, I'd rather no one knew I was here yet." He paused. "Well, except for you, Feren, Esgalnor, and whichever scouts or guards who saw me coming, of course."

"Of course. I'll check up on you in a few hours, if you wish."

"Thank you, that would be appreciated."

A beat.

"Ai Valar, I sound so stiff!" Legolas grinned a little stupidly. "I think all those councils and ceremonies affected me."

Thranduil chuckled, affectionately patting Legolas's shoulder. "You'll recover," he assured him. "I always do. Now go take that bath before I faint from the stench!" He good-naturedly pushed Legolas away, and, laughing, Legolas darted out of sight.

"Oh, that son of mine," the Elvenking sighed, resting a hand to his forehead. "He's both the life and death of me." He gazed up through the treetops, where a few silvery gray clouds were cautiously making their entrance in the late afternoon sky. "I could not be more happy to see him home."

A beat.

"Wait, what did he mean by 'I'll let myself in through the back'? There isn't a back entrance into the palace . . . is there?"

*: Hísimë (pronounced hee-seh-MUH) is the Quenya name for November.

And here are the Elvish translations; some of it is Sindarin, some of it is Quenya:

hir-nin: my lord

Nae saian luume', ion-nin: It has been too long, my son.

Adar: Father

las-nin: my leaf

mellon-nin: my friend

Mannos: What about (so-and-so)

Review, please? It makes me and my pet raven so happy.