It had been many years since such a sound had rung within the halls of Imladris, but now, they rang out in abundance.

A small, rosy-fleshed child, certainly not an Elf, was apparently loose in the hallways of the Last Homely House and was giggling in delight. Such childish mirth had not been heard within the trellised passages for centuries.

He had managed to break free as his mother when she was bathing him. She had turned away, for but a moment, to fetch a pitcher and that had been enough for her ranging son. It was difficult for her to keep him in one place at one time and no mere bath ws going to contain him.

Leaving a trail of shiny, wet footprints upon the elaborately patterned floor, he ran as fast as his little legs would carry him, dark curls bouncing on plump pink shoulders, unindered by the robes and gowns that were no doubt holding his mother back.



Oh no, she would not catch him! The little boy scrambled down a flight of steps, sitting down and sliding from step to step on his dimpled rear, each one too large for him to simply climb down. She would not put him back in the water and scrub him again! He was free!

The ground was firm under his bare feet, his toes curling at the feel, and he clapped his hands in delight as he started into the courtyard, seeing a large group of people gathered there, several of whom had turned to look at him.

Including Ada Elrond.

Raising both arms to his part-father, Estel dashed towards him, so focussed upon his father-figure that he did not heed the warning, nor notice how off-course he was until his slight frame collided with the leg of someone he had not noticed before.

Knocked back a step by the impact, the child landed on the leaf-scattered ground, bumping heavily, large blue eyes suddenly wide with pained surprise. Slowly, everso slowly, his lower lip quivered, fat tears rising in his eyes even as he was gathered up by Elrond.

Hush, little one, hush, Elrond soothed gently, smoothing Estel's damp curls back from flushed cheeks, kissing the child's brow. All is well.

If aught, Estel's lip trembled even more, tears slipping down his face. I fell down, he whispered, pointing one small finger at the ground. It hurted me. The finger moved to point to the leg he had most unfortunately encountered. And it bumped me.

I think, A voice he had never heard before distracted the little boy and he looked up at the owner of the leg, a tall, fair-haired Elf who Estel had never seen before. You bumped into me. Serious grey eyes looked at him and Estel pulled a face, crossing his arms on his bare chest and scowling.

Did not.

The Elf looked like he almost smiled, though his expression was calm. Then I crave your pardon, little Master, he said, in all seriousness, his hand raised to press to his chest and he bowed his head slightly. I most rudely placed my leg in your path.

Estel tilted his pointed little chin up and sniffed, as if his temper had been sufficiently mollified, drawing chuckles from the Elves around them.

And what, Elrond asked, graceful fingers turning Estel's face to his. Are you doing, running out of doors in naught but your skin when we are greeting our guests?

Blue eyes blinked as if Elrond were gravely stupid. Mama wished to bathe me.

The four-year-old looked pained at his mother's voice. I did. Within a matter of moments, the petulant-looking Estel had been, once more, caught within his mother's arms, leaving damp patches on Elrond's heavy robes. Your pardon, my Lord.

Elrond inclined his head, smiling slightly. I do vaguely recall the dubious joy of trying to bathe a child, my Lady Gilraen, he replied softly, then looked at Estel, who glowered sullenly at him. And you, little one, should behave for your mother.

A pink tongue was stuck out.

His mama sounded most annoyed and Estel looked quickly apologetic. Again, I apologise, my Lords, she said, turning and carrying her son back towards the hallways that lead to their chambers, lightly smacking his rear. Will you behave this time, Estel?

The child did not respond, peering over her shoulder at the fair-haired Elf, wondering who he was and why he was there. Mama, who was he?

His mother looked around, then she smiled, lifting her son back down that he might not continue to watch their Elders. That is Legolas, the Prince of Mirkwood.

Estel beamed at her. He bowed to me, mama! A Prince bowed to me! That was silly of him, wasn't it?

A strange look crossed his mother's face and it took her a little bit longer to smile than it had done before. she said quietly. Very silly.