I neither created nor own Thranduil, Greenwood the Great, Middle Earth, Valinor, the War of the Ring, nor any other creation of J. R. R. Tolkien's. I did create Lathwinn the Great.

This story is for entertainment purposes only so please read and be entertained. :)

Lathwinn melted back into her pillows with a sigh. The other elves in the room, besides the one sleeping on her chest, drifted away with soft smiles. The sun began to rise outside. Light drifted through the window and into the earthen room after passing around the branches of a tree dotted with tiny, folded leaves. There was a chill breeze coming in as well, but otherwise it was a warm day for early spring.

A head popped out from behind the wall of the outer room. Two ice-blue eyes met her gaze. "Is it safe?"

Lathwinn nabbed one of her pillows and threw it at Thranduil. He darted back to evade the projectile. She slumped back into her other pillows. She had plenty. They always made certain she did at these times. "You know quite well I am always 'safe' throughout the process, husband!"

The ellon stepped fully into the room. He tucked his left arm behind his back, but held his right hand out toward her. Its fingers had a slight purple tinge to them. Without a twitch appearing on his pale face, he continued in a low, soft tone. "My hand disagrees with you."

Lathwinn threw another pillow at him, but he only dodged it with a smile and stepped closer. The form on his wife's chest gave a displeased "mew."

Lathwinn curled up around the tiny one and broke into soothing coos and apologies. Thranduil came over and knelt down beside them. He placed his hands, folded, on the bedside and his chin upon his hands. He heaved a sigh. "Ah, once more another had taken my wife's full attention from me and in our own bed no less ..."

Lathwinn turned narrowed eyes and a wrinkled nose upon him. The edges of his mouth tipped up into a smile at her. She huffed at him and leaned back again keeping careful hold of the weight on her chest. "You annoy me with distinct purpose, Thranduil, and then our infant pays the price."

"Our third son is well, Lathwinn. In fact, he is more than well. He is a 'perfectly healthy, elven infant' as the midwife and her assistants tell me."

Lathwinn gazed back at Thranduil with narrowed eyes. "Yes. I heard you asking them if he wasn't 'too small.'"

"Well, after you gave birth to Beldoron, who could blame me?"

"When he was born you asked them if 'he' was 'too large'!"

"Well, after you gave birth to Tirnhael before him, who could blame me?"

Lathwinn smacked her king with another pillow. He dodged down, softening the blow. Their baby began to mew again at the disturbance. Lathwinn started the cooing and soothing process all over again. Her cheeks turned slightly pink, eyes twinkled, and face glowed as she gazed down at her child. "He is perfect isn't he Thranduil?"

Thranduil crossed his arms on their bed and rested his chin upon them with a grin. "Other than the size difference, I would say he looks similar to his brothers at this stage."

Lathwinn smacked her husband again, with the same pillow this time. Even her supply wasn't endless. This time she had kept it within easy reach. So, she didn't disturb the babe sleeping on her chest. He did stir slightly at her loud words. "'He' has 'your' hair!"

Thranduil had ducked, but peered back up again to examine his son with an even wider grin. "Aye, he does." He ran his finger over a patch of the pale down on the side of his son's head. "Hair of Doriath I believe."

"Not warm-golden like Beldoron's, or deep red-brown like mine and Tirnhael's, pale golden, almost white, like yours." Lathwinn tilted her head as her eyes continued to study him. "I believe he still has much Silvan in him though."

"Ah." Thranduil rose, strolled around to his side of the bed, sat down and then stretched out upon it. "What would he be without it?"

"You."

Thranduil furrowed his brows above his closed eyes and replied in a mild voice. "Wife, I'm hurt."

A silence followed, which was comfortable at first. Then instead of remaining lax it stretched and tensed. Thranduil opened his eyes and rose up on his elblows turning toward his wife. Propped up on her pillows, she was staring out the door into their outer room, and tears were gathering in her eyes. Thranduil lowered and softened his voice to a coo. "Lathwinn?"

"My brothers ... They would have either visited or been bothering the mid-wives by now."

Thranduil swallowed a groan of pain. He turned over and drew her and their new son into his arms. Then he pulled them up against his chest. She sobbed a bit into him while he rubbed her head and back while crooning to her. The little one turned his face up and mewed again. Thranduil tried to calm his son by looking him in the eye hoping neither of them would disturb his mother. Finally, Lathwinn pulled away. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I just ... it's been so long since ... I've moved so far forward now ... but ..."

"This is the first birth without them. Missing their presence is to be expected."

Lathwinn wriggled to sit up straighter again. She looked back down at their son. "What shall we name him?"

Thranduil lifted an eyebrow at the change of course, but followed after her. "Thranduilion?"

Lathwinn turned a scowl upon him. He lifted his other eyebrow as well. "Lathwinnion?"

She smacked him with a pillow again, but then leaned back into him. "He deserves a name all his own."

"And he shall have it, but you know despite you and your brothers attempts our other two only got their names after they were standing, walking, and speaking. We had to learn of their 'naming traits' first."

Lathwinn tossed her hair back. Her eyes flashed. "I want to call him something of his own sooner than that, long before the year has passed. He deserves it."

As she settled back against him, Thranduil rolled his eyes over his wife's head. Than he looked out the window with her. There outside, an "infant-leaf" unfurled for the first time in the light of the morning sun. As the light streamed through their window and over them, Thranduil fell silent. Then he spoke. "Legolas ..."

Lathwinn titled her head back and looked up into her husband's face. "What?"

"Greenleaf ... His name should be Greenleaf- Legolas."

Lathwinn's eyes squinted in amusement. "Is such a name not a bit too obvious for one born in 'Greedwood the Great'?"

Thranduil shook his head. "No ... Tis the perfect name for him. After a long winter, during which some who knew no better might have believed that tree dead, a green leaf breaks forth from it in the sunlight of a new dawn, a new spring. Greenleaf. Legolas. His name is Legolas."

Lathwinn was crying again, this time silently. She looked down and nodded over the sleeping head of her son. "Yes, his name is Legolas."

Here then is my idea of how Legolas got his name. What do you think? :)

Reviews are much appreciated and often responded to.

God Bless all of you!

ScribeofHeroes