Dedicated to my father, that man who always has a smile for me.
I Fear Lightning No More
"When a father gives to his son, both laugh; when a son gives to his father, both cry."
- William Shakespeare
(About 10 years old in elven years)
"Hmm...those clouds don't seem like good news."
"Agreed," replied Queen Miluneth to her husband. "Looks like a pretty large storm is brewing."
The royal Mirkwood family sat together outdoors, enjoying the fair weather...or well, what had been a nice day until now. The king and queen sat together under a nearby willow, the queen's head leaning lovingly on Thranduil's shoulder and with one of his sturdy arms around her. They leaned against the warm trunk of the tree comfortably as they watched their children play.
Or well, they watched their youngest play. Their two older children, an ellon called Thalos and an elleth called Aurell, were already too old for such foolish things and both served in the Mirkwood army, Thalos as a captain and Aurell as a patrol leader. They were but two hundred years apart from each other anyways. Not only twelve years ago though, Miluneth had given birth to a healthy little ellon, one they had called Legolas. Right now, he was joyfully running around the relative safety of one of the queen's gardens and was being chased by his older brother, who was scowling and frustrated about not being able to catch an elfling. Aurell stood a few feet away from them, laughing and cheering on Legolas, making her older brother scowl.
Thranduil sighed. "It seems like it's the rainy season right now. I swear there have been at least twenty storms for the last week...like Manwe is punishing us. The rain can't mean anything good...the earth becomes muddy and it gives a slight advantage to the orcs-"
"Oh please, we were all nice and happy when we came out here, now we're talking about orcs? Really love, you are stressing yourself out too much," insisted Miluneth, putting one hand over Thranduil's.
"I suppose you are right," said Thranduil slumping his shoulders. "But still, it worries me. The amount of orcs around the area is ever increasing and we're finding ourselves lacking the right quantity of elves to fight them off. So many have died...and we have so little seasoned warriors left. Now our army is based on soldiers who are too old or too young. There is no balance."
"Do not torment yourself with this Thranduil, you're doing your best. Even our children have devoted themselves to protecting the realm, we're all doing what we can," said Miluneth and then she sighed, a nostalgic grin on her face. "Do you remember when they were young? When you could carry Thalos in one arm and you had to help Aurell climb a tree?"
"Aye, I do," said Thranduil smiling fondly as well. "Time goes so fast...and now all of our little ones have all grown up. Thank goodness we had Legolas, or else I might have never gotten over that."
Miluneth sighed. "Enjoy these moments Thranduil, or else before we've realized, Legolas will grow up as well."
Suddenly, snapping out of their conversation, they watched as said elfling rushed towards them giggling, chubby arms spread wide as he jumped unto his father's lap and looked at him with pleading bright blue eyes. "Ada! Can you make mudpies with me right now?"
"I don't know penneth," said Thranduil sternly, his face twisted in a thoughtful frown. "I have a very important meeting in an hour and-"
"PPLLLEEEAAASSEE!" begged the elfling, widening his eyes ten times larger than before.
For a while, King Thranduil, the legendary Elf-king who could freeze a man with just a stare, who could make an elf beg for mercy with just a few words, who could make a glare so intense everybody insisted could burn down a dragon's scales, regarded his son with one curled eyebrow and then he sighed, giving in. "All right penneth, just give me a minute-"
"YOO HOO!" cheered Legolas, jumping out of the king's lap quickly and dashing out, sticking his tongue at Thalos, who had been in deep conversation with Aurell. The captain turned and scowled once again, glaring at the elfling and started chasing him again, much to the little one's amusement.
Laughing, Miluneth said, "I swear that our little Greenleaf could persuade you to do anything! You spoil him too much...Even if he wanted to go in front of the Black Gates of Mordor, you would surely let him go!"
Thranduil snorted, a chuckle escaping as he stood up. "Mordor? Don't be ridiculous Miluneth, how could someone so adorable and inn-?" He was interrupted however, when a dash of lightning crashed down, thunder rolling in the distance. The storm had arrived and soon after, raindrops started pouring down. Helping his wife up, he soon heard the distant shouts of an elfling and he knew at once who it was.
Legolas.
"Miluneth, get Thalos and Aurell in, I'll take care of Legolas," Thranduil stated.
"Are you sure? You don't want me to-?" started Miluneth before Thranduil shook his head, unsheathing his sword, shining even through the rain.
"No, it's too dangerous. He's heading towards the forest...I can handle it. Take care of Thalos and Aurell, I'll make sure Legolas comes back safely. The lightning must've scared him, he has never been outdoors during a storm before," said Thranduil. "Go now, and make haste."
Miluneth took one last glance at him and nodded, walking away and ushering her two other children away into the fortress. Thranduil quickly strode into the forest, deeper and deeper through the thick foliage. The rain wasn't making it any easier and Thranduil's vision was clouded. He used his instincts though, and followed Legolas' voice until suddenly, the tiny elfling came in view. He was several feet away from him, gasping and running, almost as if he were escaping from thunder.
"ION! Legolas! Come here!" Thranduil shouted, almost frantically, slowly keeping up with him.
But Legolas kept running, his chubby little feet making him speed through the forest. He had not heard his father, now that the rain was getting rougher, roaring against the wind. His mind could only hear one thing, and that was the thunder. Fear rang through his tiny body and Legolas kept running, trying not to look back.
Soon, Thranduil found himself panting. Now he could see why Thalos was having such a hard time chasing this elfling. It was as if the spirit of Tulkas was inside him, as if he had an endless supply of energy. However, the Elf-king was still in terrific shape and soon he caught up with his son, wrapping his youngest against him. They hit the ground together and soon, Thranduil found the elfling crying, hiding against his chest.
"Sh, sh, don't you worry ion-nin. Ada is here to protect you from all the lightning," he whispered, hugging his son tight and craddling him back and forth, trying his best to calm him down. It had been a long time since he'd done something like this and he was still unsure how to continue. Fortunately, the sobs started to quiet down a bit so he figured out he was probably going in the right direction. "Don't you worry, Ada won't let it hurt you."
"A-Ada, why is Manwe angry with us?" said Legolas, sniffing. "I don't want Manwe to be angry at me! I never did anything to him!"
Thranduil took his son out of his lap and put him in front of him and chuckled. "Ion-nin, why would you say that? Manwe is most definitely not angry with us...after all, is it not said that the Firstborn were his favorite? He loves each and every one of us."
"B-But then why would he be so mean? W-Why does he make all this bad lightning?"
"Legolas, this is not the first time you've seen a thunderstorm," said Thranduil sighing. "You know why and how lightning forms...I am sure Herdir Inglorion has taught you about how they are made, yes? There is nothing to fear, lest you get hit by lightning, which is very rare but it's still possible-" He immediately regreted saying that though, as he watched Legolas' eyes widen in fear at the thought of being striked down.
"What I'm trying to say Legolas," Thranduil said standing up and helping his son do so as well. The Elf-king was slowly hearing the sounds of hissing and twigs breaking. That could only mean one thing...spiders. "Is that Manwe is not angry with us. No, he is only trying to communicate with us, to speak. The sky is his parchment and the weather is his words. He only wishes to be able to talk to us, the Firstborns who are still in Middle-Earth."
Legolas frowned, looking at him, his eyes wide but curious. "So, if he is not angry...what is he trying to tell us now, Ada?"
"Well," said Thranduil with a mischievous smile, a clever idea brewing in his mind, "when thunderstorms strike, it mostly means that Manwe is hungry, penneth. And I just happen to know what his favorite meal is..."
"What is it?" said Legolas, almost jumping out of excitement.
"Mudpies."
"M-Mudpies?" frowned Legolas, obviously not buying it. "But isn't Manwe the king? Kings have feasts and all that kind of thing...why would a king eat mud? I don't see you eating mud, Ada."
Thranduil laughed nervously, not knowing how to respond. He looked back occasionally for a sign of danger and then slowly, he coaxed Legolas to walk with him towards the fortress, farther and farther away from the forest. Think fast Thranduil. Think fast. "I-Well you silly elfling, he doesn't really eat the mudpies. He soaks the essence of the earth in the mudpies, the essence of Middle-Earth."
"Can I have that essence too Ada?"
Thranduil wrinkled his nose. He would have no son of his eating dirt. It wasn't even healthy anyways. "Um...no Legolas, you cannot. Remember he is a divine spirit, King of the Valar. Only he can...soak the essence."
"Oh...I see. Does this mean that if we make mudpies he's going to stop this lightning?"
"Yes!" exclaimed Thranduil, glad that Legolas had inherited his mother's wits. As a child, Thranduil had always failed to get other people's true meanings and he'd been a terrible student. Of course he'd developed the ability later on when he was training to be Oropher's heir but still...early bloomers were always good news. "That's why we must hurry on to the gardens! After all, weren't we already going to make mudpies?"
"YES!" exclaimed Legolas and then suddenly, Legolas sped down the path right towards the fortress, passing through a pair of newly changed guards and throwing himself right into a huge puddle of mud, smiling gleefully. Thranduil could only smile, shaking his head. Valar help him with this elfling.
That is how later, the Elf-king and his son ended up making mudpies until the rain and lightning had subsided. Not only did Thranduil end up twenty minutes late to his meeting but he also got quite a scolding from his wife. Apparently, the dirt they had used for the mudpies had been full of her newly planted poppies. Queen Miluneth was usually a very gentle, quiet, soft-hearted elleth...but when you got between her and her garden, things were not bound to be pretty.
It was worth it though, his little Greenleaf feared lightning no more.
(Moments before the Battle of Helm's Deep)
Legolas paced back and forth, surveying the future battlefield.
He stood on one of the highest platforms, which gave you a clear view of the entire zone and he quietly watched the scene before him. Silently, he watched as the soldiers scrambled all over, grabbing weapons, clipping on armour and nervously preparing themselves for the fighting to come. Fires had been lit and weapons were sharpened, steel singing in the air. The elf bit his lip and shaking his head, as he watched the nervous, awkward atmosphere of the men. These were not warriors, they were obviously incompetent with warfare...and children! There were children fighting here! It was complete madness. There were but a few seasoned fighters here.
The elf had seen thousands of years pass by and he had always hated battle. Yet...this was his favorite moment. The waiting. The silence before the storm. The blue of the sky before slaughter. The peace before the battle cries. It was so quiet...you could never realize a war was raging and yet this moment would be over quickly, so he had to cherish it as best as he could.
A tortured cry rose from below and startled, Legolas looked down to see what was going on. An elderly woman was being dragged away from her husband and tears stained her clothing, her eyes watery. Her sobs grew higher and soon, the elf realized she wasn't the only one. Homburg was an emotional chaos, young children crying for their fathers and wives torn from their husbands. Grandfathers whose bones were already worn from old age miserably walking away from their hysterical kin.
He sighed. Many would die today, he was sure of it. But...at what cost?
He thought to his argument with Estel...and he was still fuming about it. He knew Estel knew the outcome of this battle just as much as he could and that Estel was a good warrior. And yet Legolas had seen more winters than he had and he'd seen much more bloodshed. Even if Mithrandir came, how could they survive the night? Maybe they had 3 or 4 thousand but the enemy had more than four times their number! The chances that they would live this night were limited and Legolas himself was sure he, the only elf in this battle, would not survive either. He had already prepared himself to greet death. Perhaps Estel would come to his senses later...
Suddenly, next to him, he heard the shuffle of steps and calmly turned to see that a father and son. A wave of nostalgia hit him as his face turned from a quiet one to one of sadness. The little boy could not have been of age yet, his eyes wide and scared, filled with tears. His father, already fully clad in gray, stood next to him, helping his tiny son put on his own armour, his face clouded with worry and determination. They were both...blond-haired, yet their hair was so dirty and stained, it looked more like brown.
"Look Pa!" said the boy suddenly, a finger pointed upwards. "The sky is turning gray."
Legolas looked up and frowned. The sky was indeed turning gray, the former blue color fading and black lines rippling. Manwe was not in a good mood. The boy's father nodded solemnly tying some strings, "Aye, it is. We are in for some bad weather."
"P-Pa, do you think there's going to b-be lightning? You know I hate it when it h-happens!" said the boy and the father's stern face softened.
The father knelt down in front of the son, a hand on his son's check. "Arias, you know that right now, lightning is not the most important thing right now. There might be some lightning tonight...but I need you to be brave, all right? I want you to try to ignore the storm."
"But Pa! I'm so scared!" said the boy, some tears streaming down his face. "It is already bad enough! We need to do this awful fighting and all those bad creatures want to kill us! What have we done to them? I want Ma!" And the sobbing only grew louder.
The father looked desperate, his eyes rimmed with tears. Now, he put both hands on both sides of his son's shoulders. "Sh, sh...now, now Arias. We'll get through this...you know we will. Remember what happens after a storm, son?"
The blond little boy cracked a small smile, a thin one but a smile nevertheless. "A rainbow. W-With light and colors and everything. And cookies...Ma always makes cookies for us when it rains because she says it makes you all fuzzy and warm. D-Do you think she's going to make cookies after this storm?"
His father smiled back, although not truthfully. "Maybe. But remember...there is always a rainbow after a storm. You know why? Because all things come to an end, eventually. And in the end...good always wins. There is always light and color in the end and I know that this suffering of ours will perish. Maybe not now but it will. And when it does, I promise you...we'll make at least six batches of cookies, just you and me and your Ma and your sisters, all right?"
"Really? That's great Pa! But...where do you reckon we'll get all the flour?" said the boy as he crashed into his father's chest and wrapped his arms around his father for a huge bear hug. The father laughed in return, tickling his son and saying that they would manage somehow.
Quietly, making sure he didn't disturb them, Legolas stood up and turned to leave. He supposed they had chances of getting out of here alive...perhaps they were slim, but there were chances. Because there was always...well, a rainbow after a storm. Light would always be the rightful winner. He sighed, maybe he did owe Estel an apology. Before leaving, he looked up at the sky and watched as the first sound of thunder rolled in the distance, too far for mere humans to hear but loud enough for him. Once, he had been afraid of lightning too. Legolas, who had fought in tens of thousands of patrols, battles, ambushes and even the Battle of Five Armies. He had been afraid of some mere lightning.
He shook that notion out of his head though as he quietly went down the stairs to find Estel and Gimli. He couldn't allow any weaknesses to take over him...especially not now. He had to be in his full senses, not worrying about something as unsignificant as a storm. Besides, he sighed sadly as he twisted down the maze of halls, his father wasn't here to comfort him about it.
Not like it mattered though, he feared lightning no more.
(After the Destruction of Dol Guldur)
"You seem to have a queer way of finding solace, Legolas."
His son frowned, his face unable to mask his surprise and he turned around, watching as Thranduil stepped out of the shadows, with a tinge of amusement in his face. The elf frowned, waterdrops dripping from his hair and face along with sweat. Around them, the rain had already started to grow stronger, thunder rolling over the dark plains of what were the sky.
"Adar, what are you doing here?" exclaimed Legolas, his frown deepening. "You're getting your robes wet!"
Thranduil snorted at his son, wondering when he'd paid so much attention in fashion. "That is the least of my worries. With you standing here in the rain and getting wet like a fool, what am I going to do when you fall ill?"
"Adar, elves don't get ill," said Legolas mildly, slowly lowering his loaded bow and arrow. "That's impossible."
"It is rare, not impossible. Perhaps you would like to experience it for the first time?" said Thranduil back at his son as he stepped forward to stand next to him.
Legolas would've normally retorted to that comment but he remained quiet, looking down with a solemn face, making Thranduil frown. Since his son's return from the War, the Elf-king had noticed the change in his youngest son. The bright Vilya blue eyes that normally shone with an eager, energetic light had returned with a dull dark blue tone, like that of a sea in the middle of a storm. His posture, mostly casual and carefree had turned straight and rigid, always aware. His aura now reduced to a faint pallid light, when it was once bright and glowing.
They were in Lórien right now, undergoing through a large celebration. From inside the halls and houses of Caras Galadhon, the smell of mouthwatering foods and fragrant wines floated in the air. Laughter and music rolled out followed by colorful decorations and bucketful of lights.
There was much to rejoice for after all, but a few hours ago the dark fortress of Dol Guldur had been completely destroyed. With Sauron defeated and his dark influence vanquished, the effective union of both the high class wardens of Lórien and the excellent warriors of Mirkwood had swiftly swept through the waves of orcs, although it had taken both day and night to do so. After that, with her light, Lady Galadriel had cleansed Dol Guldur completely from it's evil.
Both forces, despite being from completely different backgrounds, had immediately gotten along and they currently exchanged tales and stories, using hyperboles and exaggerate hand gestures.
However, the only person they were really eager to listen to was Legolas.
The prince of Eryn Lasgalen had been the representative of the entire elven race in the fellowship, which was a pretty big deal all around. Besides, everybody had been crowding around him and nearly asphixiating the already travel worn elf for the tales of his adventures. And even though Legolas had only returned one day before the destruction of Dol Guldur, he pretty much had no choice and had been forced to sit down, grab a goblet of Dorwinion and try to stay polite as he repeated his journey with the fellowship for about fifty times.
It had been no easy task and in the feast, Thranduil had watched his son internally battle against himself to stay polite, especially when it came to the elflings. The elflings proved to be ten times more eager than the soldiers. The Elf-king himself had faced battle and sure, he had been about half of Legolas' age when he'd fought but still...he would've prefered if Legolas had been just a bit older. Just a bit older.
And now, before he'd realized, his little Greenleaf had grown up. Grown up too fast.
Eventually, Legolas had found an escape exit and he'd been able to slip away out of the hall, insisting he was tired from his journey...but a father knows best and suspicious, he'd followed him outside to the archery range, where he'd found his son angrily shooting arrows at the bull's eye of several targets.
"You didn't answer my question," pointed out Legolas quietly, the frown still there.
"Why, what do you think I was doing? I was checking on you, you idiot. You have faced much evil and darkness; for one so young, it can be overwhelming," stated Thranduil. "I know how it must feel, being a spoil of war."
"A spoil of war..." whispered Legolas, then he shook his head and looked up at Thranduil. "No Adar, I'm fine. There is no need to worry, y-you should get inside before you get cold."
"Cold? Please, I have swam across a lake bare-chested in the middle of winter. These fragile droplets are nothing," the Elf-king replied, rolling his eyes. Then he looked up, as thunder continued to roll through the sky, lightning dashing out and crackling in the darkness. A small, distant memory entered his mind, creating one of his rare, amused smiles. "You know, funny to think that you were once afraid of something as insignificant as lightning."
Thranduil watched as suddenly, the remaining light in his son's eyes faded and Legolas was dragged somewhere else, in the world of memory. And judging by the frozen horror in his face, he knew it could be nothing good. "Legolas, are you all right?" he said quickly, shaking his son by both arms in concern.
The archer shook his head, snapping out of his trance and he looked up at his father's eyes...and suddenly, Thranduil's heart broke in half. When he saw into those eyes, those eyes he'd always known to be bright and cheerful, were shadowed...shadowed by fear. So much fear. They looked so weak they could crach with the most gentle of touches. The slightest tip of emotion.
Legolas let go off his father's grasp. With a tired sigh, he put his bow and arrows gently aside and he sat in one of the benches. Thranduil, slowly and hesitantly, followed him suit, sitting down next to him. For a while, a barrier of silence stood between them, cold and deadly...until Legolas spoke up.
"There was lightning that day too."
Thranduil didn't need any other words to know what that day was. He'd heard plenty about it...the Battle of Hornburg. Impossible odds, overwhelmed forces of Uruk-hai and orcs, certainty of death...it had been catalogued in Middle Earth history as chaos, just one step under Dagorlad. He watched quietly as his son continued, although his mind raged with memories of his own. It was red, so red...
"It was already bad enough. They already have four times our number...and these were no ordinary orcs Adar, these were Uruk-hai! You know what they are capable of. They have the strength of an orc, the agility and speed of a goblin, a more advanced mindset. The only advantage we slightly held...was the wall. And even they destroyed that. It was chaos Adar, it was complete chaos. You were so surrounded, you could barely see your own hands! You couldn't even take one step without having an entire ladder full of hungry creatures flung at you! The lightning doesn't bother me anymore...but I knew it was a sign. A sign from Manwe. That this fighting would have no good ending, no matter who won...and you know what? I believe he was right."
"How so?" said Thranduil, with one eyebrow curled, snapping out of his own memories.
"Because...sure, we won but really, at what cost? So many died that night. Children who could've grown to be great people. Men who left their wives widowed. Men who could have been great fathers. Men who were already destined to face death, but in a more peaceful way. Had it not been for Mithrandir's reinforcements and the Tree Ents, we would not have lasted."
"It saved Middle-Earth. I think that is a good enough purpose."
Legolas sighed and leaned back. Quietly, almost as if he were afraid to do so, he asked, "Adar...was there in lightning in Dagorlad?"
Dagorlad. Battle plain in Sindarin. The root of all of his nightmares. The poison in all of his memories. The fire in his mind. Thranduil barely talked about the largest battle of the Second Age but when others did, nothing good came out. Not only had Thranduil's father, King Oropher, died in the battle but two thirds of his armies had vanished, Thranduil barely crawling out of the battlefield alive.
"No, surprisingly the weather was extremely pleasant," mused Thranduil. "There was a lot of dust though and the sky was colored brown. And it didn't rain water...it rained blood."
For a while another awkward silence separated them. The father and son looked down, quietly pondering to themselves. Thranduil wondered if it would've been different, if he had been a better father in the past. Would Legolas have been so hesitant to seek his knowledge? Or would he have poured himself out, sobbing and speaking about his worries freely with his father?
"Listen Legolas, I would very much like to help you cope with this but...I'm afraid I cannot. I cannot because I, myself haven't coped well enough," started Thranduil, causing Legolas to frown and look up to his father with a face of confusion. "These memories...they will stick to you forever. They are now part of you, part of who you are and no matter how hard you try, you will never be able to forget. And it will be painful, the process of trying to go on without remembering but you will have to learn to face these nightmares. Because no matter how terrible they are, you must go on. You cannot let the past torment you."
Legolas remained silent and Thranduil continued, "This is difficult because there are scars to remember pain and suffering...and yet there is nothing to remind you of happy times. There is no remains of that...but you must hold on to those memories. Surely there must have been a happy memory in this fool's quest of yours."
A small smile curled on his son's lips. "I beat the dwarf in a drinking contest."
Thranduil snorted, an amused grin spreading on his own lips. "If that's what you think is a good memory, go ahead. But I do believe that is quite obvious. That dwarf did not stand against you. Since we ran out of milk when you were a baby, you were sucking entire barrels of our Dorwinion dry. What I'm saying is...that should you ever need counsel, do not hesitate to seek me out-"
He was taken back though, when his son wrapped his arms around him and pulled his father into a huge hug. Awkwardly, Thranduil pondered on what to do next. He had shut himself from his emotions. Shut himself so that he wouldn't get hurt anymore...and yet, here it was, a chance to become the father he could've been once. To repair the relationship they could've had. Would he grab that chance...or would he brush them all away, as he had done in the past?
Of course he was going to take it. Now before it was too late.
Slowly hugging his son back, they sat there like that in silence. Because some people have a unique understanding of others, a bond bound so tight, that not even time can undo it. And no bond can compare to that of a parent's to his child. It is a love that will always be there, no matter how hidden it is. It is a love so deep, that it bores through the ages of the world. And some things simply cannot be said to each other with words, for perhaps they are not even enough...but Thranduil and Legolas didn't mind the silence.
They already knew what they were saying to each other.
Rated: T
Genres: Family/Hurt/Comfort
Disclaimer: Am I one of the founding fathers of fantasy? Have I created one of the most diverse literal worlds ever? Have I created several new, beautiful languages? Am I even male? No! All of the characters (except my OC's) along with the setting belong to the beloved JRR Tolkien!
AN: Hello folks! Badass Archer Daughter here! I'm starting this mini shortfic campaign since my longer stories are taking...well, a long time. So this story was going to be published on August 8, which is the father's day in my country. HOWEVER, I submitted it to Teitho and those guys took some time to choose the winner. And guess what? *drum roll*...
I didn't win.
LOL! Did you think I was? That's good of you all! At least you have more faith in me than my parents do! Hahaha! It doesn't matter though! Maybe next time. This month's prompt, "Weather" just isn't my thing, so let's see if I can do something for October. Go to Teitho and vote for the stories there too guys! :D Some are AMAZING!
About the Battle of Helm's Deep, I used the numbers in the actual book, not the ones from the movie. That would be 3,000-4,000 Men vs. Around 16,000 enemy forces. Also, in this version, the elves from Lórien don't come to help, so HALDIR DOESN'T DIE! :D
Now, about our father's day:
8/8: You see, in other countries, your father's day is in June or in some other month. However, in some Asian countries, including mine, our father's day is in August 8. Let me explain. 'Dad' or 'father' is written like this, 爸爸.So these two characters are pronounced 'ba ba.' Now, 'eight' is written like this 八 and it is pronounced similarly (but different) to father. Therefore, August (the eighth month) 8 is father's day! Get it? It's pretty clever! ;)
Hope you enjoyed this slightly angsty family fic and try to appreciate and show how much you love your father or any fatherly-like figure in your life! :)