A/N: *waves hello*

This fic is set quite a while before the books, and assumes that Legolas is fairly young, and that his mother recently passed away. We don't hear much about her, and I really didn't consider her or Legolas' childhood until I read some rather fantastic fics by Jedi Saphire on the subject. This fic is largely inspired by a line in her fic called A Reason to Fight, about how fond the trees are of Legolas, and another in her story Just Desserts, wherein the trees offer to adopt Legolas, if his father exiles him. Both were excellent, and if you enjoy this fic, I highly encourage reading those.

Be the reason someone smiles today! :D And if you have a minute, I'd really appreciate any feedback you care to give! Thanks. :)

"Legolas..." Thranduil heaved a sigh. His anger was cooled, and guilt swiftly taking its place. "My son, come down." He swallowed. "Please."
Through the boughs, he could catch a glimpse of his son's eyes, peering down. They, too, were no longer sparking in anger. The king felt a rush of relief. His wife's passing had strained their relationship badly. He was only glad his son had inherited her forgiving nature instead of his unyielding one.
His son's clear voice rang down to him. "I cannot, father."
Thranduil frowned. Legolas didn't sound angry. He wasn't prone to petty displays, even when he was. This was out of character.
"Legolas." His voice was firm. "Come down." The king sighed once more. Apologize, his wife gently chastised in his mind You know you're wrong. Be brave enough to admit it.
"ion... Forgive me. I... acted in haste, and unwisely. I do trust you. I simply don't want to see you hurt, when it might be avoided. Do you understand?"
An answering sigh from above. "Certainly. But, ada, I am not your son only. I am a prince, and a soldier, and if I can aid our people, I will do so. I am of your blood." There was a smile in his son's voice, now. "Can you truly be surprised that I rush into the face of danger, without self-consideration?"
Thranduil smiled ruefully. "I suppose that would be unjust."
"Quite."
The king surprised himself with a laugh. He was always surprised to laugh, these days. He brushed the sobering thought away. "Very well, I concede. Will you come down, now?"
His son's silvery laugh answered him. "I told you, father, I cannot. Friend beech here was concerned for my safety, and bade me take refuge. It's not entirely satisfied I'm out of danger, it seems. It won't let me down."
Thranduil could finally identify the strange note in his son's voice. It wasn't anger. It was strangled amusement. The king came as close to an eyeroll as kings are allowed to get, and stepped closer.
"Do you believe it would let me come up, then?" There was dry sarcasm coloring his voice. "As long as it can chaperone?"
A moment while Legolas consulted the beech tree. Thranduil could have asked himself, of course, but the tree didn't seem to approve much of him. That was another thing Legolas had inherited from his mother, the king thought with a pang. The trees could never refuse her anything, either.
"It's perfectly agreeable," Legolas returned, recapturing his father's attention. "Be forewarned, however- I'm not certain it will let you go down when you wish to." The last was said fairly pointedly, and Thranduil guessed it was mostly for the tree's benefit.
Pausing only long enough to ask the tree's permission to climb, which was swiftly, if grudgingly, granted, King Thranduil moved upward to join his son. Legolas was perched on a thick, inviting branch right as the base of the tree's crown. The spot looked ready-made for him, and knowing the Mirkwood's soft spot for its prince, it likely was. His son offered him a small smile, before returning his gaze to the trees stretched out beneath them. They sat together in silence, neither wanting to break their peace, watching over their beloved trees. It was only when they'd sat for over an hour that Legolas finally spoke.
"Father, I'm glad of your company, but do you not have duties to attend to?"
Thranduil settled back against the beech's sun-warmed bark. He did, of course, have duties to be attending to. But in spite of that, he couldn't remember the last time he'd simply been with his son. Others could command, and judge, and oversee, for today, at least. No one else could do this for him, and he didn't wish them to.
"I can think of none more pressing than this, no."
Legolas' soft smile told him his answer had been understood, and Thranduil felt the last of the argument's tension drain out of him. He was terrified that one of these times, Legolas wouldn't forgive him so easily. The prince might very well do something rash, and Thranduil knew he wouldn't be able to take another loss. But the trees would look after him, even if he evaded his considerable number of friends and allies, Thranduil thought, with a smile. He gently squeezed a nearby branch.
Thank you for looking after him, he told the tree warmly. Especially when I forget.
The tree rustled haughtily in response, as if scornful the king could ever make such a mistake. Of course.
And Thranduil smiled.