Author's Note: Here' s the multi-chaptered story I promised. A bit of background information is needed to understand the story For my purposes, Legolas is youngest of five brother, from oldest to youngest: Dolnor (Dark Flame), Celonel (River Star), Celegon (Silver Prince), Saeraglar (Bitter Glory), and Legolas. The queen was called Rinalph (Crowned Swan) and died when Legolas was nearing adulthood. Saeraglar died in the Battle of Five Armies, therefore explaining Legolas' contempt toward Dwarves (on a personal level). It takes place not too long before the events in the Fellowship of the Ring. And this story is dedicated to my father, a brilliant man who has always encouraged me to pursue my dream. Many thanks to Beta-extraordinaire, Nierial Raina.

Disclaimer: The world and the characters (some of them) are the wonderful creations of Tolkien. I have simply commandeered them for a while.

"...Who can say
why your heart sighs
as your love flies?
Only time."

Enya, Only Time

Prologue: Lost

He was dead. Gone. Just like Saeraglar. Like Rinalph. They all three had passed on to the Halls of Mandos. And now, he had but three left.

Vaguely, Thranduil registered the burnt tree before him as he arrived at the sacred glade sheltered from the harsh reality of every day. The tree had been planted as a memorial of the death of the wood's most enchanting queen. But it had died, and with it had gone much of the hope of Greenwood's people. Many feared for the lives of their princes and the sanity of their king. Dark times indeed.

But nay, not all was lost. He yet had three sons. Three. Three left to love, to cherish, to protect from the rising darkness, to hold his heart in Arda. Three which he had to risk every day, so they could in turn protect their people. Three, for which every moment they spent together may well be the last.

Thranduil wanted to scream in frustration, but he lacked the strength. Rage mingled with the grief in his heart. Rage at the shadow, which threatened to overwhelm the Greenwood. Rage for how thoughtlessly the shadow tore apart friends, families, how it took lives so needlessly, how it stole young innocence and broke carefree spirits. No child deserves to enter the world in such dark times.

What Thranduil could not see at the time was this: In darkness, there is light, and in light, there is hope. Albeit, under the intricate web of death and danger that was Eryn Galen that light proved hard to see. Clouded by a thin veil of doubt and loss, it shone weakly, but it shone nonetheless. Perhaps he would free himself of the web and learn to look past its deviance. Perhaps with time.

But would the folk of Greenwood ever know what their king sacrificed for them? Would those who claimed the king was cold-hearted and cruel ever know that he could love? And love with such loyalty, such passion, that he too could grieve? Nay, perhaps they would not.

But some knew. His sons would know how their father loved them. And show him that he was loved in return. But for now, they all grieved for the lost life, the departure of another soul they held close to their hearts.

Now, every one of them knelt before the dead tree, and every heart was laid bare, every soul unmasked as tears flowed unchecked down porcelain faces. The people looked on as if seeing their king for the first time – vulnerable, passionate, the bearer of a great burden they could only begin to comprehend. And so, with great shadow in their hearts, they marked the passing of another hero.

A/N: And there you have it. Hopefully, the next chapter (which should be posted before '09) will be longer and more Legolas-centered.