Legolas was not at all eager to visit with his father's friend Elrond in Rivendell. The place did not entice him in any way. He pondered things he could do to occupy himself for the next fortnight while he visited, but there was nothing to be done there except attempt to have a bit of fun with Arwen, who was his own age, but it was so easy to make her cry that she was hardly any fun at all. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, letting his head rest on the back of his horse's neck, the little elf's dark hair falling into his face. He closed his big, silvery eyes and blew his shoulder length hair off his nose, only for it to float back down and back into his face.

"Legolas. Sit up. That's no way for the Prince of Mirkwood to present himself." Legolas' father, Thranduil, said, looking back from his own horse just a few paces in front of the young boy's, his shimmering gray cloak flowing behind him like a body of water floating in the air. They were accompanied by only two other elves, archers from the Royal Guard who would protect them if need be, though the world was peaceful at that time, Legolas felt quite awkward. He wished it were just him and his father, so that he might speak freely and honestly without the possibility of judgment.

"Yes, Father…" Legolas replied, sitting up, but slouching, playing with the braid in his hair, feeling that was the best thing to say.

"What's wrong, my child?" Thranduil asked, slowing his horse until he was beside his son. "Lord Elrond has been awaiting our visit for some time. I'm sure little Arwen is looking forward to having some company." Legolas shrugged. He was rather quiet and felt it was easier simply to keep to himself and do as he's told. He looked up absently, admiring the stone arch that the company had passed through. The young elf smiled to himself, looking back at the arch over his shoulder. It simply asked to be climbed on and hung from and jumped off. A Potentially amusing option should Arwen begin weeping. He had nearly forgotten about his father's question. Legolas was easily immersed in thought and his expansive imagination that he sometimes seemed to leave this world and enter one of his own. He began humming a charming melody he had heard earlier that day from a bird in Lothlorian as they passed on horseback. They had stopped there for the night to visit with Galadriel, for his father and the Elf Queen were very close friends and had not spoken for quite some time. Legolas quite enjoyed Lothlorian Forest, and wished he could have stayed there instead of coming to Rivendell. Lothlorian was just so much more calming to Legolas than Rivendell. Maybe it was because he had lived in the forest for his entire life, and was just more comfortable in Lothlorian than Rivendell. But it didn't matter. He had to do as his father instructed, and his father wanted him to visit in Rivendell for a fortnight while he caught up with Lord Elrond.

"Legolas," Thranduil said when he realized his son wasn't paying attention. The young elf's attention snapped back to his father. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Father." He replied, then cast down his silvery eyes. Thranduil decided it best to stop prodding and proceeded to the stables where he dismounted his horse, then helped Legolas down. Elrond met them at the stable gate with Arwen at his heals. Legolas heard the little twins giggling up in the garden, but they were of no interest to him. They were too little and far too rambunctious for the little elf, and he didn't want to be trapped with the little ones for his entire visit. He just kept quiet, trying to keep his gaze down and off Elrond, partially out of respect, but also out of disinterest and the lack of willingness to speak to the intimidating ruler of Rivendell.

"Thranduil. Welcome. And young Legolas! I haven't seen you since you were but a little sapling of a wood elf." He smiled down at the little boy who continued to twirl his hair around his thin fingers.

"I am very pleased indeed to see you, Lord Elrond. It has been far too long since we have spoken." Thranduil smiled, placing his hand on Legolas' back, giving him a bit of a push forward. "Legolas, go on with Arwen."

"Arwen, my dear, would you show Legolas to his room for me?" Arwen nodded, her long, dark hair fluttering into her watery eyes. Legolas followed her tentatively and quietly, carrying his small bag of belongings, looking over his shoulder at his father, who waved him off with a smile. He watched Arwen as she walked in front of him in her long dress. She wasn't so very different from the girls in Mirkwood, but she always had a sort of woeful look to her. She always seemed ready to burst into tears, and it made Legolas nervous.

"Hello, Legolas." She cooed in her soft, birdlike voice. She sounded well rehearsed. Elrond had clearly instructed her on how to behave. It was a terribly awkward situation, but there was nothing for it. They were more or less stuck with each other for at least six days.

"Hello, Arwen…" he answered her quietly, carrying his small satchel in front of him, letting it bounce off of his knobby knees. Legolas was built exactly how Elrond described him: like a small tree. He was of a rather average height, but looked taller with his long legs. He was entirely knees and elbows, like the knuckles in a growing sapling in between the new branches. Everything about him was long and thin. His nose was precise and smooth, as was his slender mouth. His eyes were a pale gray-blue, like the shadows in the woods on a sunny day. He was a beautiful child, as most Elfish children are, but perhaps more so in a way. He had a sort of way about him that made him seem more mysterious and glitteringly silent and smooth in everything he did, that it gave him an otherworldly beauty that is difficult to find, even among Elves.

"There is another boy staying with us." She announced rather randomly and suddenly. Legolas raised one of his eyebrows. His father hadn't informed him of this. He hoped this new boy would be more interesting and less fragile than Arwen. Legolas wanted someone to climb trees with. "He is of the race of Men. His mother and father have been slain and my father is taking care of him until he is grown." She explained. Legolas did not reply. He simply thought quietly to himself. He had never encountered a Man before, and truthfully, he was a bit frightened. Men were greedy and foolish; at least that's what the stories said. So many men had made so many rash and stupid decisions in the stories of old, and Legolas, as well as most of the other Elfish children, had come to think of all men as such.

"What is he called?" Legolas asked, curious as to what he might call this Man when they did meet, since it was inevitable now.

"Estel." she answered simply, clearly uncomfortable with Legolas' presence in her realm of comfort. Legolas nodded. Estel…Hope. What an interesting name for a Man. Such a pristine Elfish name was not fit for any man Legolas had ever heard of.

Arwen walked down one of the long, sunlit corridors and into the room Legolas was to stay in. It was a beautiful room, with a bed carved of smooth, blonde wood and posts that split and divided into the branches of trees. These branches held up a sheer canopy that floated lightly in the breeze from the open window. The room was mostly empty otherwise, except for a candelabrum near the window and an intricate tapestry on the wall opposite the bed. There was a small nightstand, though, topped with a silver tray adorned with delicate silver teacups and a teapot carved carefully with leaves and flowers. Everything in Rivendell was so perfect and intricate. Legolas wondered who did all of it, who carved his bed, who forged these silver teacups? Things in Mirkwood were much more rustic. They drank out of glazed clay cups and slept in simple, but still delicate and decorated, beds with warm woolen blankets. They ate at tables hewn from fallen trees, and there was little evidence of anything sheer, shiny, or smooth. Mirkwood was cozy and beautiful in a more rustic way. Rivendell struck Legolas as sterile and too pristine. He longed for the woods, with its twists and turns and knotty roots; he missed the strong arms of the trees that would hold him and keep him safe. Here, he felt deserted and out in the open. This place was too big, too sparse.

"Thank you." Legolas said with a smile, putting his things on the bed, hoping Arwen would take that as a hint to leave. Legolas was a relatively quiet, free spirit, and needed a bit of time to himself. He had been in the company of others for over three days straight, and he longed for solitude. Arwen seemed to realize this and left in a rather hurried fashion, leaving through the door (which was only a sheer curtain draped from an archway) and ran down the long hall back to the safety of her father's heel. Legolas sighed, flopping back down on the bed, his dark hair flying out around his head like a deep brown halo. He closed his gray eyes slowly and took a deep breath, calming himself, relaxing in a way only he knew how. He smiled, close to contentedness, but was interrupted.

"You're Legolas, aren't you?" a shrill voice called from the doorway. The young elf sat up and looked to the door. There, he found a boy, a young boy, about the human equivalent of his own age, looking at him with big, puddle-blue eyes.

"Yes." Legolas replied with a little smile. Though he had been shaken from his state of enlightenment, this boy was already proving to be entertaining. "And you're Estel."

"Yes!" the boy answered with a smile. He was missing teeth, which Legolas found amusing. He was a relatively handsome boy, though, with a strong nose and dark, wavy hair that came down to his shoulders. His eyes were bright and appeared to be windows into another world of life and glittering water and a sparkling sky. Legolas slid off the silken sheets and onto the floor, then walked up to the boy and smiled.

"Have you found anything very fun to do around here?" The young elf asked, batting his straight, dark hair out of his face. The boy, Estel, smiled mischievously, his eyes sparkling with the promise of misbehavior.

"There are lots of fun things to do here. You've just got to find them first." He said. Legolas' grin grew.

"I'd quite like to find something fun to do." Legolas cooed, turning to look out the window. His spirits sunk when he saw the sun retiring under the horizon. "But the day is fading…" he added, a bit disappointed.

"Well…that's alright. We can do something fun here. Wait just a second." The boy ran out of Legolas' chamber before the young elf could protest, and returned less than a moment later with a handful of blankets, pillows and what appeared to be a stuffed bear. That put Legolas at ease, for he too had brought his favorite stuffed thing: a gray wolf with a smile. Though Estel's bear seemed in much better spirits than Legolas' worn out wolf, it was comforting to know he would not be ridiculed for having his stuffed thing. Legolas sat down on the bed again, fishing Gilthoniel, his wolf, out of his bag and snuggled his soft fur against his fair face.

"Who's that?" the boy asked, smoothing a thick feather comforter next to the bed on the floor.

"Gilthoniel." Legolas answered a bit tentatively.

"This is Beorn." Estel smiled, showing the young elf his own stuffed bear.

"Beorn, like from the stories of Beorn the Skin-Changer?"

"Yes! You know those stories?" Estel asked, thoroughly excited. Legolas nodded. "He reminds me of Tom Bombadil. He's in the old stories too. Tom Bombadil is the oldest Being in all of Middle Earth." Legolas nodded again with a broadening smile.

"I think I should like to meet Tom Bombadil." Legolas cooed in a dreamy, removed sort of way, as he always did when he was imagining something distant. "Estel? What are you doing?" Legolas asked after a moment of daydreaming.

"Making a bed so we can have a sleep over." Legolas raised an eyebrow. "That's when you come over to someone else's chamber and spend the night just for fun." Legolas nodded in understanding; though he wasn't sure he quite grasped the logic behind sleeping on the floor.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to share the bed? It's big enough for both of us…" Legolas suggested, secretly hoping Estel would refuse the offer. Legolas wasn't fond of sharing his sleeping arrangements with anyone, even at home. It made him feel vulnerable and uncomfortable. The bed was a sacred and safe place for the young elf, and he intended to keep it as such.

"No. It's not as fun if you sleep in a bed. You can come onto the floor, though. It'll be fun! We could play games until we go to sleep." Legolas shrugged, unsure. The floors were all of marble and were not very pleasant to step on, much less sleep on. They were cold and hard, but Estel seemed happy to sleep there, so maybe it wasn't so very awful. Legolas thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Aw are you sure? I can get more blankets. You'll hardly realize you're on the floor! It'll be fun! We could make a fort under the bed, just like the ones at Helms Deep and the White City! You've heard of those, haven't you?" Legolas nodded. He had, in fact, heard of the military stronghold and the White City in Gondor. He had even gone with his father once to Minas Tirith. "Please, Legolas? It'll be fun." The boy's eyes were so bright and full of adventurous spirit. Legolas shrugged with an unsure smile. "Please?" he asked a final time, his big, blue eyes boring into Legolas' soul. The young elf finally nodded.

"Yes alright. I'll sleep next to you under the window. Let's get more blankets." Legolas smiled. Estel grinned and stood up, running out of the room, his bare, slapping feet followed by Legolas' silent footsteps. They headed into the linen closet where Estel tossed a pile of blankets at Legolas. The elf stumbled backwards, but kept his footing, and Estel grabbed his wrist and dragged him back rather quickly to his bedchamber, where the little elf collapsed from the cumbersome blankets. Estel laughed.

"That was fun!" he cooed his voice high and glittering, like rain in a forest.

"Fun? Are you sure?" Legolas replied laughing.

"Yes it was lots of fun!" he said, taking the corners of the largest, thickest blanket and smoothing it out flat under the window. He then layered three more, thinner blankets on top of that, and finally a thin white comforter over that as a blanket. The boy then returned to his own makeshift bed and placed Beorn on his pillow, proceeding to cover up the bear with his blanket. Legolas smiled, pleased with his new playmate. Estel was the perfect fit for Legolas. Though the boy was almost a perfect foil to the young elf, they got along famously, Estel's bright smile and mischievous ideas brought out the childishness in the little elf. From early in his life, Legolas had been taught that he must be noble, humble, and obedient, but this boy lit a spark inside the young elf that allowed him to have fun and perhaps even misbehave. It wasn't that Legolas didn't usually have fun, but his fun was quiet and controlled; climbing trees, practicing his archery, drawing the little birds that sat in the leafy boughs. This boy was different.

"Could I bring my pillow down there?" the little Elf asked. He wasn't familiar with the procedure involved in a 'sleep over'

"Yes of course you can! You have to be cozy!" Estel answered, sitting on his own fluffy pillow. Legolas tossed his pillow down into his next of blankets, then sat down on the ground and carefully placed Gilthoniel carefully on the pillow.

"I suppose it isn't so terrible down here." Legolas observed, looking up at the room, then out the window just above his head. It was fun to look at things from another angle. "This must be what little trees see from the bottom of the forest."

"I never thought of that…" Estel answered, looking around as well. "Do trees really have many feelings?" Legolas raised an eyebrow. He thought everyone knew about the thoughts and feelings of trees.

"Yes of course they do! Trees know all sorts of things! They are very old and wise, and if you listen very carefully, trees will tell you all sorts of things! I'll show you tomorrow when the sun comes up!"

"Alright!" the little boy exclaimed, hugging Beorn tight against his chin. "It'll be so fun." He flopped backwards and let his head sink into the pillow, just as the last rays of sunshine glistened through the window, then curled up into a ball on his side, smiling as he closed his eyes. Legolas laid down as well, resting gently on his back, his delicate hands clasped and rested on his chest, and eventually he drifted off into the space between awake and dreaming, the place where Elves slept.

Legolas had been asleep for some time when he was awakened by his father's voice drifting in from the doorway.

"Legolas!" he whispered urgently, wondering where his son was, for the space on the floor he and Estel were sleeping on was obscure from the door. The little boy sat up and listened, then stood very suddenly, startled, and not wanting his father to be frightened.

"I'm here, Adar." He whispered, fearful of waking Estel. Though Elves could go for very long periods without sleeping, he knew that sleep was precious to Men.

"What are you doing down there?" Thranduil asked, "And still dressed in your traveling clothes? Have you forgotten your night things?" he asked, opening his arms, an invitation for his son to approach, which he did, and hugged his father.

"No…Estel and I were having a sleep over," he said quietly, a bit frightened at what his father's reaction would be. Sleeping on the floor was not a noble thing to do, and Legolas was a prince, after all, though sometimes he wished he was not. Thranduil repositioned himself on one knee, so to be more Legolas' height, and smiled, brushing the silken hair out of his son's pale eyes. "I'm sorry. Forgive me, Adar."

"Ah, how I love you, iôn." The tall, fair Elf said to his son with a smile, embracing him again. "You have done nothing wrong. Lord Elrond and I used to have sleepovers as well when I came to visit here. That was when I was small like you."

"Really?" Legolas smiled, his eyes shining.

"Yes," Thranduil said, standing and taking his son's hand, leading him into the bathroom attached to all of the guest bedchambers. He retrieved his son's night things off the dresser as he passed. "I was far more mischievous than you are, though. Elrond and I got into quite a bit of trouble when we were small." He lit the candles near the door, cascading light over the bathroom. He sat Legolas on the edge of the sink and helped him unclasp his coat, then pulled his light blue tunic off over his head. He then replaced these garments with a thin white nightshirt with lovely silver beading around the collar and the cuffs. Legolas then kicked off his leggings and pants, replacing them with the thin white pajama bottoms with silver beads around the ankles to match his nightshirt. He smiled. "That's better, isn't it?"

"Yes Adar." He answered as his father helped him slide off the countertop and back onto the floor.

"Wash your face and hands then clean your teeth. I'll stay to tuck you in." Legolas nodded, happy Estel was asleep. He doubted he needed tucking in by Elrond every night. Legolas felt quite discontented without a hug and a kiss from his father before going to sleep.

The little Elf listened obediently, washing in the bowl that was the sink and drying his face and hands on the towel hanging from a silver ring on the wall. He then returned to his makeshift bed on the floor. Thranduil bent down nimbly and kissed his son on the forehead, covering him in the thin, summertime comforter.

"Goodnight, Adar."

"Sleep well, nín iôn. I love you."

"I love you too, Adar."

Adar = Father

Iôn = Son

Gilthoniel = Star-kindler

Nín = My