AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I own none of the following characters or places, although I *REALLY* wish I owned Legolas to have as my own (clears throat).  They remain the sole property of JRR Tolkien and probably New Line Cimenas as well.  I receive no payment for this story, only your reviews (hint, hint, big grin).  I haven't had much time to study the story in depth, so if I get facts wrong (and since I am making this up as I go along, that's very likely to happen), please don't shred me for it (puppy eyes).  This story is told from Thranduil's point of view.  Just my excuse to hack into the mind of a character we don't often see much of and to explore what Legolas was like when he was a child.  Warning – he's not quite what you'd expect from an elf prince!  Thanks and I hope you enjoy!  9 short chapters.

*** A warm note of THANKS!!! to those who have pointed out some inadvertent errors.  I hope that my corrections fix all my errors. *** 

*** All elvish phrases that are used I have looked up on various websites.  I am hoping that they are correct. ***

SUMMARY: King Thranduil reflects on Legolas from birth to present, as he watches his son leave Mirkwood to join Elrond's council about the Dark Lord.

RATED: PG

I remember the day my son was born like it was yesterday.  My wife and I had tried for centuries to have a child, all to no avail.  My life without a son or daughter to love was almost unbearable, and when she finally did become pregnant, I was ecstatic.

Legolas came into the world one bright and sunny morning, just over 2,000 years ago. I remember holding him in my arms; he was so tiny that I almost feared that my strong hands and arms might hurt him.  But he only looked up at me with bright blue eyes, silent.  His small pointed ears stood slightly apart from his bald head.  Ah yes, he was bald, his blonde hair not growing in until a few months down the road.  His eyes caught mine, and in that instant, an unbreakable bond was born between us.

My wife was sleeping – the labor had been long and she was drained.  I took my newborn son into the next room, not wanting to wake his mother.

His eyes were still fixed onto mine when I sat down in my study, where I knew I could speak freely to him.

"Dear little Legolas," I said, choking back the torrent of emotions that threatened to break free at any moment, "you are a gift from the Valar – the greatest gift I have ever received during all my long years of life."

Legolas still gazed at me in a sort of silent understanding. I shifted him in my arms, and he made a moan of protest, but nothing more, and settled back down as soon as I was still again.

"My beautiful little son," I started to say when it hit me.  My son!  I was a daddy!

The tears that had been threatening to break through all morning were finally released.  I don't know how long I sat there, just holding my son and crying, tears of joy streaming down my face.  When I finished, I looked up at the ceiling as I fought to regain control of my emotions. 

"Welcome to Mirkwood and the world my boy," I said, still looking upwards, still feeling emotional.  "All of Mirkwood is your kingdom, little prince."

But Legolas was already asleep in my arms.  He looked so peaceful, so small.  I bent down and kissed his perfect head, his delicate hands.  He did not stir.

Legolas.  I had chosen the name myself before he was born, should the baby be a boy.

That night, I took my son outside into the warm night.  I sat with him on the grass of a field, and I pointed out all the constellations to him.  Or at least, I tried to get through them all.  But the perfect little being in my arms held my attention, and after maybe 3 constellations, I was back to being transfixed on my son's face.  I laughed a little to myself.

"You've managed to make me addicted to you, my little Legolas."