See the end for notes on time/birth dates/ etc…

###

Thranduil froze, holding onto the mithril crown so tightly that it cut into the delicate skin on his palms.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't be the King his people needed. Not without his father's guidance, without his wife's steadying presence, or without his mother's calm support. His people had already suffered so much already - they deserved someone far stronger than he. They needed a proper King, not a Prince playing pretend in his father's crown.

He put the crown (his father's crown, not his, never his) gently down on the table near the large open doors leading to his balcony (just his now, no longer theirs), barely resisting throwing it into the woods beyond.

He'd managed to avoid having to play at being King in an official capacity thus far, had been able to prioritize settling his beloved people and rebuilding, had mourned his wife and father, as well countless others who'd been killed in the fight against Sauron. He had worked tirelessly to rebuild Greenwood, to make it once more a haven for the Silvan Elves who'd shown him such love as their Prince.

And now as there King.

His hands tightened on the balcony railing, and he willfully fought back tears. He'd cried enough these past months. He refused to cry more. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and listened to the sounds of the forest.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting the forest of Greenwood the Great in its warm morning light. He listened to the birds, just starting to wake, to the night creatures settling down for a day of rest. The wind rustled through the leaves, bringing in warm winds, heralding the coming spring. The trees were happy, he noticed, finally opening his eyes again. Sauron's darkness was gone (for now, not forever, he was still waiting) and they were able to bask in the light, bask in the love and care of the elves.

And, he thought, finally smiling to himself, the trees were able to love their own precious Greenleaf.

Thranduil turned from the balcony, moving gracefully over to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out a hand to stroke his son's (his reason to live, his only solace, the only reason he'd not faded from his grief) pale hair back from his face, feeling his breath catch in his chest.

Legolas made a soft sound in his sleep, smacking his lips. He, like most elves, was used to rising with the sun, and was slowly stirring into wakefulness. Thranduil stayed beside him as he woke, studying the beloved features. The pert nose, the flushed baby cheeks, the bright green eyes glazed over as he walked in elvish dreams… Those eyes, so like those of his beloved, focused on him as the small elfling woke for the day.

"Ada!"

Thranduil smiled, pushing all of his worries and fears away. "Good morning little leaf," he said quietly, stopping stroking Legolas' chin length hair in favour of cupping his chubby cheek, still rounded from babyhood.

His child stretched, dislodging his hand, before sitting up, looking impossibly small in his nest of blankets. He held out his arms, asking without words to be lifted up. Thranduil chucked softly, indulging the toddler. His wife had always teased him that he was far to indulgent with their elfling, teasing Thranduil had born gracefully, for he knew it was true. He'd never imagined himself having children, especially not with Sauron rising in power as they courted and fell in love under the watchful eyes of the Silvan people, but she had managed to convince him. His father and mother had been surprised when they'd announced the coming child, but the Silvan elves they ruled over had not. His wife was Silvan herself. They knew the power a child could bring, the light that they carried.

Legolas was his last link to her. Her goodness, her kindness, her very essence. His son shared his pale blond hair rather than her dark brown, but his bright green eyes, slighter build, the openness of his heart, his ability to connect to every living thing around him… that was all her. Even Oropher, his stern and at times cold father, had not been able to stay so for long around the light that was Legolas. He only hoped his son would remember his mother, grandsire, and grandmother.

He carried the happy toddler over the balcony, knowing his son wanted to bask in the morning light. He was so connected to their forest already.

"Ada, look!"

Thranduil shook himself from his musings, focusing instead on his son's face. Legolas' green eyes were wide with wonder, bow lips parted in awe. His thumb was slowing slipping from his mouth, causing a trail of drool to fall onto his cream nightshirt. Thranduil wiped it away without a second thought. He and his beloved had tried to break him of his thumbsucking habit, but Thranduil didn't have the heart to push it. Not now. Legolas deserved whatever comfort he could find. How he'd remained so light and pure Thranduil did not know. So many of them had died. Legolas had lost his mother and his grandfather to Mandos, and his grandmother had sailed to Valinor, the pain of losing her husband to great. Thranduil did not know how she had not faded herself. He knew if anything were to happen to this precious life in his arms, if he had not had a reason to stay when his wife had…

"Ada," Legolas giggled, pleased as only a child could be when they caught their parent's mind wandering from where it was supposed to be. "You're supposed to be looking!"

"I'm looking at you, ion-nin."

Legolas giggled again, thumb inching back into his mouth. "At that Ada," came the muffled voice, filled with joy and a child's impatience. He pointed with his other hand.

Thranduil followed the chubby finger, taking in the forest again. The tree nearest to the balcony was flowering, petals floating down all around them. The sun had risen more, bathing the world in light. Legolas giggled, leaning fearlessly in his father's arms, trying to grasp at the petals with the hand that wasn't in his mouth. As he watched the tree shook itself, allowing more petals to fall.

He raised an eyebrow. Only a toddler, barely out of babyhood, and he already had the forest wrapped around his littlest finger.

"Ada, I caughted one!"

"Caught, little one," he corrected automatically, grinning at his child's excitement.

"I caught one," Legolas dutifully corrected. "Look!"

"So I see," Thranduil said, bringing up a hand to stroke the blossom. The pale flower seemed to sparkle with morning dew. Legolas took it from him, gentle as only a wood elf could be, and glanced between the bloom and his father. His bright gaze briefly focused on something over Thranduil's shoulder, before going back to his father. Slowly, consideringly, he put the flower behind his father's ear.

"For you, Ada," he said, cuddling into his father's welcoming arms. Thranduil held the small body close.

Thranduil half turned to see what had caught Legolas' attention, biting the inside of his cheek when he saw his father's crown again.

This precious child…

"Would you like to help me with something very important darling?"

Legolas nodded, cornsilk hair flying everywhere. It was getting long now, nearly to his narrow shoulders. He detested having it braided, so it was usually tied quickly to be kept from his face. His wife had favoured it half down, and Thranduil had kept tying it that way in remembrance to her.

But there would be time for that later.

"Can you help me collect some more blossoms?"

Legolas grinned, scrambling to be put down. He was steady on his feet now, for all he was still so young, as elves gained control of their bodies far earlier than mortals did. He darted onto the balcony, chirping a hello to the birds landing on the railing, before gathering up as many flowers as he could. The nearby trees, seeing what their beloved elfling was doing, shook themselves, allowing more of their blossoms to fall. Legolas laughed brightly, twirling around in the falling flowers.

Watching, Thranduil felt his heart catch in his chest. He'd been so scared when he'd came back from Dagorlad, that this little light would leave him. That he would be unable to care for him on his own. That Legolas would miss his mother too much, and fade from this world. But his little leaf had surprised him. Had surprised them all, in the end.

He didn't know what he had done to deserve this little light in his life, but he would die without him.

"Here, Ada," Legolas chirped, jumping back onto the bed with his gathered flowers. Thranduil raised an appreciative eyebrow. More than enough.

"Thank you, ion-nin," he praised, ruffling the fluffy hair. Legolas peered up at him with laughing eyes, sleepshirt slipping from his shoulder again. Thranduil fixed it and smoothed his hair automatically. "Come," he ordered, settling himself cross legged in the centre of the bed. Legolas crawled over, settling himself in his father's lap.

"I know…" his voice caught in his throat, sorrow making it impossible for him so speak. Legolas twisted in his lap, looking up at him wise a gaze far to wise for his tender years, before leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"It's alright Ada," he said softly, kneeling on his father's lap to better look him in the eyes. "I miss them too."

Thranduil took a deep breath, before crushing the most important thing in his life to his chest. Legolas went willingly, accepting the love and comfort his father gave him. His poor little leaf… only a toddler, and he'd already lost so much.

"Your Nana wanted to show you this, and I'm afraid I will not be as good at it as she was, but she taught me. And now, I shall teach you."

Legolas pulled back, tears rolling down his rosy cheeks. Thranduil wiped them away, even as his own tears fell. Legolas regarded him seriously for a long moment, before leaning forwards and kissing the tears away, just as his mother had done for him whenever he'd cried.

"You are too pure for this world, ion-nin," he said, voice choked with emotion as he regarded his wonderful child, the most perfect gift the Valar could have possibly given him. Legolas cuddled into his chest again, before settling down in his lap.

"We," Thranduil continued, pulling his own long hair, so like his son's in colour, over a shoulder. "Are going to make these into a crown."

Legolas gasped, before laughing in delight. "Like the ones Nana made for us when we had a picnic?"

Thranduil nodded, picking up a pale yellow flower. "Just like that," he confirmed. "It is a new spring for our people, Legolas," he said seriously. "A new dawn."

"We should put Daerada's crown somewhere special later," Legolas stated. "That way it will be safe and we can always remember him."

"Good idea," Thranduil praised, pressing another kiss to the top of Legolas' head. "Now, watch me Greenleaf," he ordered, knowing if he touched on Legolas' declaration on his father's crown he would not be able to keep his composure. There was no need to frighten him. Legolas had already seen far too much of his grief. "First, you twist this…"

Legolas followed his instructions faithfully and carefully, pink tongue peaking out from his lips as he concentrated. He was too young, his hands too small, to be truly good at it, but by the time he had finished he had fashioned a colourful crown of spring flowers, one that Thranduil would wear with pride. He himself, at Legolas' instance, had made a much smaller crown, one better suited to the much smaller head of Greenwood's young Prince. They had to, as Legolas had firmly pointed out, match.

He could not find it in himself to deny his son anything.

"We need to get you dressed now, penneth," he said, glancing out the open balcony at the position of the sun. Galion would come looking for him soon enough. "We mustn't keep Galion waiting."

Legolas giggled as his father scooped him off the bed, nibbling at some fruit a servant had brought for their breakfast.

Thranduil finished dressed himself first, pulling on an ornate green robe over his simple tunic and leggings, one that was embroidered with spring leaves and belted it quickly. He pulled on his boots last, before going over to the small chest beside his (it used to be theirs) wardrobe. When he'd returned from Dagorlad, with just a third of Greenwood's army and without his father or wife, Galion had brought Legolas' things in, knowing that father and son could not be separated. He shook out a cream tunic with delicate mithril embroidery (it had been her favourite, one she had stitched with care), matching cream leggings, and a sleeveless robe that paired with his. It had been his, eons ago, just as his own robe had been his father's.

"Should we match today penneth?"

Legolas jumped up on the bed. "Always, Ada!" He confirmed, lifting his arms so Thranduil could help him out of his night clothes. "We should always match."

Thranduil chuckled, knowing that Legolas would change his mind soon enough, and helped him into the clothing. Usually he would omit the outer robe (and Legolas would take off the soft indoor shoes within the hour) but today was an important day.

He left his son's hair loose, much to his obvious pleasure. Legolas grinned up at him, comparing the embroidery on their robes. His was less ornate and heavy, but clearly designed to match the ones his father was wearing.

"One last thing, and then we are done," Thranduil said, smiling down at Legolas. Legolas sat down at the edge of the bed, kicking his feet gently, head tilted to the side as he listened to the trees speak to one another.

Thranduil gently picked up the crown of flowers he had carefully made, settling it on his son's head. "My Prince," he intoned formally, bowing his head. Legolas giggled in response, before picking up the crown he had made. He bit his lip, looking up at his father. Thranduil sunk to his knees before the bed, smiling as he steadied Legolas as he stood tip toe on the soft bedding. He himself had taken after his own father in height, and was tall even for an elf. Legolas, it seemed, would be taking after his mother, and Thranduil's head was therefore far out of his reach.

"My King," Legolas said, trying to copy his father's formal tone and failing. "We match Ada!"

"That we do," Thranduil said, scooping his happy child from the messy bed. He almost felt bad for the servants that would have to clean the petals out of the sheets. "Now, little leaf, it is time to start the day. Do you think you can help me?" He asked.

"Always, Ada," came the immediate reply, along with a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you, ion-nin," Thranduil whispered.

Legolas smiled in response, already distracted as his father swept him from the chamber and out into the hallway, waving cheerily to the guards as they left. They waved back happily, completely wrapped around his son's small finger.

"I was just coming to find you, my King, my Prince!"

"Ada, look, it's Galion! Good morning Galion!"

The other elf chucked, dark hair pulled back in a low tail. He bowed his head at the pair, throwing Thranduil, his friend as well as his king, a knowing look. "Little Prince," he smiled. "You look just like your Adar today."

Legolas nodded, pleased.

"What's first, Galion," Thranduil sighed, walking towards his office with long strides. Galion easily kept up, rifling through the sheets of parchment he held. "The men living in the settlements nearby request an audience, as do the Dwarves of Moria. They have lost many trading partners in recent years."

Thranduil fought the urge to groan. He'd known he'd neglected his duties to the mortal realms (as had all the elves, they had far too much to rebuild) but that did not mean he wanted to deal with them again. Their rulers changed far to often, and with change came renegotiation. The human's of Laketown were kind enough, but he did not want to welcome dwarves into his realm. The memories of Doriath still haunted him.

"Will mortals come here?"

Galion and Thranduil exchanged a glance, before Thranduil focused his attention on Legolas. "At some point, yes," he answered honestly. "The men who live in the towns surrounding the forest are good men. And we'll see about the Dwarves. It would be unkind not to hear them."

Legolas nodded. Kindness was important - both of his parents had made that very clear. "Can I meet them, when they come?"

Thranduil took a deep breath, ignoring Galion's sympathetic glance. If he were to have his way he would forever keep Legolas sequestered away, safe with him, among the Silvan folk who loved him and would always protect him. But Legolas was also a Prince, the only elf Prince. He could not stay safe with him forever. "I'm sure that that could be arranged ion-nin," he replied when he finally felt he could speak.

Legolas whooped with joy, knocking his crown askew.

Galion chucked, and reached over to fix it.

"What else?" Thranduil asked, already dreading the answer.

Galion shuffled through his papers again, though Thranduil was sure he did not need to. Galion had been his secretary for centuries. "Elrond, Lord of Imladris, sends his regards as well as his sympathies, and would like to forge a friendship between Imadris and Greenwood."

Thranduil thought this through, ignoring the grins of his fellow elves as he and Legolas made their way to his office. He'd have to hold court later in the day, but for now needed to get all this tedious work over with. He'd always hated paperwork as a Prince, and now would have much more of it as King. "I'll write back to Elrond myself," he finally said. He'd met the other elf at Dagorlad, and again at the Battle of the Last Alliance, and knew he was ultimately kind and just. He was also courting the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, his distant cousin Celebrian. That alone would lead Thranduil to meeting with the Lord of Imladris. He fondly remembered spending time with his younger cousin before Sauron's rise.

"As you say, Aran-nin."

Thranduil rolled his eyes, making Legolas giggle. Galion knew he hated when he stood on formality, and therefore made a point of doing it as often as possible.

They'd finally made it to his large office, and Legolas wiggled to be put down. Thranduil did so, smiling wistfully as the boy darted over the the guards at the door, greeting them cheerfully. One of the guards, a ellith named Rîlien smiled slightly at him, while her companion knelt down gracefully when Legolas launched himself forwards.

"Good morning, little Prince," Toldaer said with a smile. Legolas hugged him tightly. Toldaer had been one of his father's guard for centuries, and the Prince had known him his entire life. He was more unsure about Rîlien, who was often stern, but gave her a smile nonetheless.

"Good morning Toldaer," he chirped, hugging the tall elf again. The older elf had nearly died in the war, Legolas knew. He was glad he had not.

"Your Majesty," Toldaer said formally, standing with the elfling in his arms.

Thranduil gave the guard a small smile, accepting his squirming child back. "Toldaer, how is your arm?"

The dark hair elf stretched his right arm, which he'd nearly lost in battle, obligingly. "It is nearly fully healed Aran-nin."

"I am glad," Thranduil said honestly. They had lost far to many in the war.

"I'm thirsty Ada," Legolas interrupted, breaking the moment. The guards both chuckled, before opening the door to admit their King and Prince, Galion trailing in after.

"There is water and apple juice, your highness," Galion said, shuffling through his papers again. Thranduil put his child down when they entered the brightly lit office, and Legolas immediately darted over to "his corner", a small area of the office Thranduil (and Oropher) had set up for the elfling. Elves did not believe in sending their children away, even if they were working, and made sure Legolas had a place in which he would be comfortable. There were pillows strewn on the ground, as well as several plush blankets, and a wooden box holding several of Legolas' toys and books.

Galion followed the Prince, stopping only to set his papers down and fetch the toddler a drink. "My Prince?"

"Thank you Galion!" Legolas said, grabbing the cup in two hands and guzzling the juice. Thranduil looked at him in bemusement. Perhaps he was hitting a long overdue growth spurt?

Galion left the prince to his own devices once he ensured the drink would not be spilt, coming over to his King, who had settled into the comfortable chair behind the large desk that dominated the room.

"Aran-nin?"

Thranduil closed his eyes. He was ready for this. He had to be. He would spend the morning going through the missives that had been piling up while he and his realm recovered. Then, after lunch, he and Legolas would go to the throne room, holding court as King and Crown Prince in an official capacity for the first time since the war. The last time formal court had been held Thranduil had still been Heir Apparent, and Legolas has been off with his mother.

His eyes drifted to his beloved child once more. He'd refused Galion's offer to remove the flower crown for safe keeping, and was doing an admiral job at keeping it neat and tidy on his head as he played with his wooden horse. His own flower crown sat lightly on his head, and felt much more natural than his father's mithril circlet.

From the open balcony doors daylight flooded the room, casting everything, from the books covering the walls to his happy son, in its warm light. This was a new day for the elves of Greenwood. A new spring. A new age for them all.

"I am ready."

###

I know what you're thinking. "But Legolas wasn't born before the Battle of the Last Alliance!" or something like that. And you know, I normally agree with you. I generally think he's of an age with the twins and Arwen. But I had the image in my head of Legolas remembering his grandparents, and of making Thranduil his crown, which Thranduil wore with pride. So, this fic was written. And several other chapters in the same "universe".

I mean, we don't technically know when he was born, so I'm not wrong to write this per say. Just more then likely it's not true. Sorry Tolkien purists. But I had far too much fun writing this.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know if you have any other prompts or anything you would like to see in this little realm. I'm loving being back in the Tolkien fandom, and would love to have some more ideas.