[Disclaimer]
I do not own either Legolas or Thranduil, as they belong to the wonderful
and creative writer, JRR Tolkien. I can dream, though, can't I? I also do
not own the realm of Mirkwood.
[A/N] I do know that Legolas's mother either left or died when he was young, and I just want to show what kind of effect it might've had on the little blighter. **Also, when I say that Legolas is five years old, that is only in maturity. In this little fic, every five human years equals one year in his maturity. He is five in this fic. **Also! He and Thranduil have green eyes, just 'cause I said so. ^-^
Nightmares
* * * Flashback * * *
"No, no, no, Ame, come back, come back!!" The small elfling tried to struggle out of his father's grip. "Don't leave me! I love you Ame! Please, come back!"
Wide, emerald green eyes watched as the boat sailed away over the sea. After a few moments, strong familiar arms wrapped around the slender frame and held him close.
"It's alright, Legolas nîn, you'll see her again." His father's voice whispered in his ear, using their native tongue, the only language the elfling knew, his voice soft and broken with tears of his own. "Don't worry, my little Greenleaf, you'll see her again.
Legolas cried the entire ride home, curled in his father's arms, crying for his departed mother, long gone over the sea and into Valinor.
* * * End Flashback * * *
"No," the soft voice called out in his sleep, small, spindly arms wrapping tightly around a doll strongly resembling an elven hunter, tears pouring from his eyes. He began fighting off his bed sheets as he had his father's arms, yelling out to his mother in his sleep. The blonde elfling, only five-years-old, bolted upwards in bed, a sob escaping his lips as he once again awoke from his night terrors.
Legolas tried to still his breathing, tried to stop the tears, but that only made them come faster. He kept his arms tightly around his little elf doll, taking comfort in the toy hand made by his mother before he was born in hopes for a son. It was an elf in hunting greens, with pale blonde hair tied back with a ribbon and smiling green eyes. Sometimes, when his Adar was really busy and couldn't play with him, Legolas would pretend that the doll was his Adar.
But now, she was gone and he didn't think that he would ever see her again.
The smaller than average elfling wondered for a minute if he should go to his father, just wanting to be held. Legolas shook his head. No, his Ada would be too busy to do that. Tears fell unbidden down his little face. And besides, he thought, it was too late, he might even be asleep.
The wind howling outside his window and a tree branch scratching against it startled the little elf and he found himself out of his bedroom and down the many twisting hallways.
His bare feet made soft pattering against the smooth stone floors. He clutched his elf doll close to his chest, fighting not to let any sobs escape him. Legolas sniffled quietly as he approached the large door, small hand hesitating as it reached out and touched the doorknob. Wide, scared, emerald green eyes looked back and forth down the long hallway before he opened the door into his father's private chambers, barely making any sound, and barely wide enough for the slender elfling to squeeze through.
A soft golden light shone through the door and he knew that his Adar was awake and working on something. Tears poured down his soft cheeks, already stained with tears. He swallowed and closed his eyes, carefully squeezing through the door, careful not to make a sound. Maybe he would see if his Adar was really awake, but if he was, he would leave him alone.
* * * * *
The king of Mirkwood looked up from the paperwork he had been given, and had been working on, since early that afternoon. He could've sworn that that he had heard something. Looking to the door, he noticed that it had been opened ajar by one of the servants. It was probably Cìrélch, the servant that had been looking out for him since he was an elfling running about the castle without a care in the world, much like Legolas was now.
Thranduil smiled as he though of his five-year-old son. The small elfling looked very much like he had at that age. Same brilliant, emerald green eyes as well as the careless air. He chuckled. The elfling had inherited his father's uncanny ability to sneak up on the staff, as well as moving silently through the trees. The only difference in their appearance was the fact that Legolas's hair was the same white gold as his beloved wife, not the shining, dark gold that Thranduil had.
Even though the young prince was, in appearance, much like his father, he had received his mother's big heart and kind demeanor. He was very trusting of other people, and always tried to help. There had been many times when the young elf had brought little animals that he had found injured in the forest to his Adar, or the palace healers, asking them to help the poor animal. He was such a sweet child, and it made his heart ache whenever he heard other children laughing or taunting the young prince.
Another sound made the young king again look at the doors; he could've sworn he'd heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, or a muffled sob.
* * * * *
The elfling's small frame shook with concealed sobs as he went through the doors quietly, trying not to disturb his father. One of the doors creaked noisily, and Legolas flinched when he saw his father's head go up, looking around for the source of the sound. The small elf's green eyes closed and he waited for his Adar to start yelling at him.
When he didn't hear his Adar's voice, Legolas opened one eye, clutching the hunter doll to his chest tightly, and looked towards where his father had been. To the elfling's surprise, the king of Mirkwood was kneeling in front of him, a sad look in similar green eyes.
"Is something wrong, ion nîn?" He asked quietly in elvish, reaching out a hand to his obviously frightened son. "You can always talk to me, my Greenleaf, all you have to do is ask."
He held his arms out, offering comfort to Legolas's pain. The elfling didn't think twice before throwing himself into his father's arms, sobbing quietly as familiar arms surrounded his slender frame and held him close. Thranduil held his son close, whispering soft words to him in their native elvish. The child held tightly to the doll that his beloved wife had made for him while eagerly awaiting the birth of their first child.
Memories rushed into the young king's mind and he felt tears fall down his face as he held the smaller-than-average five-year-old tightly in his arms. It had been hard on the both of them since Legolas's mother had somehow come by a mysterious illness that no one, not even Lord Elrond, had been able to heal her, forcing them to send her over the sea until their own times came. Thranduil had loved his wife very deeply, and he remembered how much she had cried at the thought of being separated from her beloved husband, and her young son. She had been so reluctant to go.
After a while, Legolas's sobs lessened and he looked up at his father, resting his small, pointed ear against his Adar's chest, listening to the beat of the elven heart. Since his Ame had left, the elfling had found his Adar's presence, the sound of his heart beating, soothing. He looked up at his Adar, watching him closely. Sniffling quietly, he wrapped the fingers of one hand around a lock of his Adar's golden hair, like he had when he was younger, and curled further into his chest.
"I miss Ame," Legolas looked up, trying to see what was in the elven king's eyes. He had always been able to see how his Ada felt by looking in the eyes identical to his own. Tears still fell down his cheeks, leaving trails behind. "I wish she was home."
Thranduil sighed, keeping his arms tightly around his son. Looking down into those wide, emerald eyes, he brushed a few strands of white gold hair from his son's little face. "I know you do Legolas nîn. I miss her too."
"Ada? You think we'll ever see her 'gain?" The elfling said softly, not meeting his Adar's eyes. He played with one of the buttons on the front of his father's robes.
Thranduil frowned slightly, sighing. Why would Legolas ask such a question? "Of course I do ion nîn. We'll both see her again when our times come. Don't worry about it, Legolas nîn."
They stayed like this, kneeling on the floor of Thranduil's study, for a long time, just wrapped in the other's presence. Thranduil knew that there was a reason that his son had come to him, and he thought that it would be better for the elfling to talk about it, now that he was here, safe in his Adar's arms.
"Legolas," he began quietly, "why did you come down here? Its late, and I know your nurse put you to bed hours ago."
He felt the small elf stiffen in his arms and wondered if he had asked the right thing for a moment before his son spoke.
"I had a bad dream 'gain." He said quietly, looking into the green eyes of his Adar. "So I came here, since you told me to do that when I had bad dreams."
"I did, didn't I?" The elven king smiled, for the first time in days. The young child had such a big heart. "Tell me what happened, Legolas, it always made me fell better when I told someone else about my dreams."
He felt the little elf nod against his robes before that soft voice began to speak. "I saw Ame 'gain." Thranduil could hear the tears in the child's voice. "She was standing in the trees. She was smiling, like she did 'fore she was sick. She called my name, told me that she loved me." The elfling was struggling not to cry. "Then she started moving 'way, and her eyes were sad. Ame was crying, telling me that she had to go. I didn't want her to go 'way! I kept running and running, but I couldn't reach her."
Legolas again broke into sobs, though was trying his best not to do so. Thranduil held his son tightly, whispering soft words of comfort. He knew the child missed his mother a lot, but he hadn't realized exactly how much. He had had no idea that the five-year-old still had nightmares about her leaving only a few weeks ago. The young king had spent as much time as he could with his only son and child, but, a lot had happened in Mirkwood since then, and he had had a lot of paperwork to do.
"It's alright, ion nîn, I know that you miss her," he said quietly, wiping the tears from the elfling's soft cheeks. "But remember, you will see her again, no matter what Ilúvatar decides, you will see her again. There will be a day when you sail off to the Valinor yourself, and you will see her, as I will when I leave."
Wide emerald eyes looked up at him, fear shining within their deeply colored depths. Small, spindly arms wrapped tightly around the hunter doll. "You aren't leaving, are you Ada?" Tears shone in those with eyes. "Are you going to leave like Ame?"
"No, no, Legolas, I won't be leaving," Thranduil sighed, realizing the little elf's fears. "Not for a very long time. I won't leave until you are ready for me to leave."
"I love you, Ada." Legolas's soft voice made the young king smile as he held his son close. "I love you very much."
"And I love you too, my little Greenleaf." He lightly kissed the top of the elfling's head. "I love you more than words can say."
Smiling for the first time in weeks, Legolas yawned. He didn't want to admit it, but the feeling of safety that he felt being held in his Adar's arms, made him sleepy. His green eyes began to drift close, and Thranduil smiled. Slowly, he stood; adjusting the sleepy five-year-old in his arms, and began to open the door into the hallway, fully intending to tuck the elfling into bed. As he started opening the door, he felt Legolas tense in his arms, looking into his father's face with a curious look in his eyes.
"Ada? Can I stay here little longer? Please?" Green eyes looked pleadingly up into identical ones. His voice softened as he again played with the button on the front of the king's robes. "It feels . . . nice, safe. Please?"
Thranduil smiled down into those innocent eyes, seeing the elfling's arms tighten around the doll's soft body. "Of course you can, my son, of course."
"Thank you, Ada." The elfling said sleepily as he yawned, snuggling up against his father's warm chest. Thranduil smiled as he sat in a chair near the fire, watching his son fall asleep. Looking into the flames, the young king realized how tired he was himself. Kissing Legolas lightly on top of his head, he allowed himself to slip into the reverie of the elves.
* * * * *
Hours later, Cìrélch walked into the study to find both father and son sleeping peacefully in the chair before the low fire. The last few weeks had been really hard on Thranduil, hardly allowing time for the young king to get the rest he needed. Smiling, the older elf placed a blanket around the crown prince and ruling king of Mirkwood, glad that they would finally get some sleep.
* * * * *
[A/N] I hope you like! ^-^! I had a lot of fun writing this, especially since this plot bunny has been stuck in my head for the longest time. **Grrr.** Please review! And be nice!!
[A/N] I do know that Legolas's mother either left or died when he was young, and I just want to show what kind of effect it might've had on the little blighter. **Also, when I say that Legolas is five years old, that is only in maturity. In this little fic, every five human years equals one year in his maturity. He is five in this fic. **Also! He and Thranduil have green eyes, just 'cause I said so. ^-^
Nightmares
* * * Flashback * * *
"No, no, no, Ame, come back, come back!!" The small elfling tried to struggle out of his father's grip. "Don't leave me! I love you Ame! Please, come back!"
Wide, emerald green eyes watched as the boat sailed away over the sea. After a few moments, strong familiar arms wrapped around the slender frame and held him close.
"It's alright, Legolas nîn, you'll see her again." His father's voice whispered in his ear, using their native tongue, the only language the elfling knew, his voice soft and broken with tears of his own. "Don't worry, my little Greenleaf, you'll see her again.
Legolas cried the entire ride home, curled in his father's arms, crying for his departed mother, long gone over the sea and into Valinor.
* * * End Flashback * * *
"No," the soft voice called out in his sleep, small, spindly arms wrapping tightly around a doll strongly resembling an elven hunter, tears pouring from his eyes. He began fighting off his bed sheets as he had his father's arms, yelling out to his mother in his sleep. The blonde elfling, only five-years-old, bolted upwards in bed, a sob escaping his lips as he once again awoke from his night terrors.
Legolas tried to still his breathing, tried to stop the tears, but that only made them come faster. He kept his arms tightly around his little elf doll, taking comfort in the toy hand made by his mother before he was born in hopes for a son. It was an elf in hunting greens, with pale blonde hair tied back with a ribbon and smiling green eyes. Sometimes, when his Adar was really busy and couldn't play with him, Legolas would pretend that the doll was his Adar.
But now, she was gone and he didn't think that he would ever see her again.
The smaller than average elfling wondered for a minute if he should go to his father, just wanting to be held. Legolas shook his head. No, his Ada would be too busy to do that. Tears fell unbidden down his little face. And besides, he thought, it was too late, he might even be asleep.
The wind howling outside his window and a tree branch scratching against it startled the little elf and he found himself out of his bedroom and down the many twisting hallways.
His bare feet made soft pattering against the smooth stone floors. He clutched his elf doll close to his chest, fighting not to let any sobs escape him. Legolas sniffled quietly as he approached the large door, small hand hesitating as it reached out and touched the doorknob. Wide, scared, emerald green eyes looked back and forth down the long hallway before he opened the door into his father's private chambers, barely making any sound, and barely wide enough for the slender elfling to squeeze through.
A soft golden light shone through the door and he knew that his Adar was awake and working on something. Tears poured down his soft cheeks, already stained with tears. He swallowed and closed his eyes, carefully squeezing through the door, careful not to make a sound. Maybe he would see if his Adar was really awake, but if he was, he would leave him alone.
* * * * *
The king of Mirkwood looked up from the paperwork he had been given, and had been working on, since early that afternoon. He could've sworn that that he had heard something. Looking to the door, he noticed that it had been opened ajar by one of the servants. It was probably Cìrélch, the servant that had been looking out for him since he was an elfling running about the castle without a care in the world, much like Legolas was now.
Thranduil smiled as he though of his five-year-old son. The small elfling looked very much like he had at that age. Same brilliant, emerald green eyes as well as the careless air. He chuckled. The elfling had inherited his father's uncanny ability to sneak up on the staff, as well as moving silently through the trees. The only difference in their appearance was the fact that Legolas's hair was the same white gold as his beloved wife, not the shining, dark gold that Thranduil had.
Even though the young prince was, in appearance, much like his father, he had received his mother's big heart and kind demeanor. He was very trusting of other people, and always tried to help. There had been many times when the young elf had brought little animals that he had found injured in the forest to his Adar, or the palace healers, asking them to help the poor animal. He was such a sweet child, and it made his heart ache whenever he heard other children laughing or taunting the young prince.
Another sound made the young king again look at the doors; he could've sworn he'd heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, or a muffled sob.
* * * * *
The elfling's small frame shook with concealed sobs as he went through the doors quietly, trying not to disturb his father. One of the doors creaked noisily, and Legolas flinched when he saw his father's head go up, looking around for the source of the sound. The small elf's green eyes closed and he waited for his Adar to start yelling at him.
When he didn't hear his Adar's voice, Legolas opened one eye, clutching the hunter doll to his chest tightly, and looked towards where his father had been. To the elfling's surprise, the king of Mirkwood was kneeling in front of him, a sad look in similar green eyes.
"Is something wrong, ion nîn?" He asked quietly in elvish, reaching out a hand to his obviously frightened son. "You can always talk to me, my Greenleaf, all you have to do is ask."
He held his arms out, offering comfort to Legolas's pain. The elfling didn't think twice before throwing himself into his father's arms, sobbing quietly as familiar arms surrounded his slender frame and held him close. Thranduil held his son close, whispering soft words to him in their native elvish. The child held tightly to the doll that his beloved wife had made for him while eagerly awaiting the birth of their first child.
Memories rushed into the young king's mind and he felt tears fall down his face as he held the smaller-than-average five-year-old tightly in his arms. It had been hard on the both of them since Legolas's mother had somehow come by a mysterious illness that no one, not even Lord Elrond, had been able to heal her, forcing them to send her over the sea until their own times came. Thranduil had loved his wife very deeply, and he remembered how much she had cried at the thought of being separated from her beloved husband, and her young son. She had been so reluctant to go.
After a while, Legolas's sobs lessened and he looked up at his father, resting his small, pointed ear against his Adar's chest, listening to the beat of the elven heart. Since his Ame had left, the elfling had found his Adar's presence, the sound of his heart beating, soothing. He looked up at his Adar, watching him closely. Sniffling quietly, he wrapped the fingers of one hand around a lock of his Adar's golden hair, like he had when he was younger, and curled further into his chest.
"I miss Ame," Legolas looked up, trying to see what was in the elven king's eyes. He had always been able to see how his Ada felt by looking in the eyes identical to his own. Tears still fell down his cheeks, leaving trails behind. "I wish she was home."
Thranduil sighed, keeping his arms tightly around his son. Looking down into those wide, emerald eyes, he brushed a few strands of white gold hair from his son's little face. "I know you do Legolas nîn. I miss her too."
"Ada? You think we'll ever see her 'gain?" The elfling said softly, not meeting his Adar's eyes. He played with one of the buttons on the front of his father's robes.
Thranduil frowned slightly, sighing. Why would Legolas ask such a question? "Of course I do ion nîn. We'll both see her again when our times come. Don't worry about it, Legolas nîn."
They stayed like this, kneeling on the floor of Thranduil's study, for a long time, just wrapped in the other's presence. Thranduil knew that there was a reason that his son had come to him, and he thought that it would be better for the elfling to talk about it, now that he was here, safe in his Adar's arms.
"Legolas," he began quietly, "why did you come down here? Its late, and I know your nurse put you to bed hours ago."
He felt the small elf stiffen in his arms and wondered if he had asked the right thing for a moment before his son spoke.
"I had a bad dream 'gain." He said quietly, looking into the green eyes of his Adar. "So I came here, since you told me to do that when I had bad dreams."
"I did, didn't I?" The elven king smiled, for the first time in days. The young child had such a big heart. "Tell me what happened, Legolas, it always made me fell better when I told someone else about my dreams."
He felt the little elf nod against his robes before that soft voice began to speak. "I saw Ame 'gain." Thranduil could hear the tears in the child's voice. "She was standing in the trees. She was smiling, like she did 'fore she was sick. She called my name, told me that she loved me." The elfling was struggling not to cry. "Then she started moving 'way, and her eyes were sad. Ame was crying, telling me that she had to go. I didn't want her to go 'way! I kept running and running, but I couldn't reach her."
Legolas again broke into sobs, though was trying his best not to do so. Thranduil held his son tightly, whispering soft words of comfort. He knew the child missed his mother a lot, but he hadn't realized exactly how much. He had had no idea that the five-year-old still had nightmares about her leaving only a few weeks ago. The young king had spent as much time as he could with his only son and child, but, a lot had happened in Mirkwood since then, and he had had a lot of paperwork to do.
"It's alright, ion nîn, I know that you miss her," he said quietly, wiping the tears from the elfling's soft cheeks. "But remember, you will see her again, no matter what Ilúvatar decides, you will see her again. There will be a day when you sail off to the Valinor yourself, and you will see her, as I will when I leave."
Wide emerald eyes looked up at him, fear shining within their deeply colored depths. Small, spindly arms wrapped tightly around the hunter doll. "You aren't leaving, are you Ada?" Tears shone in those with eyes. "Are you going to leave like Ame?"
"No, no, Legolas, I won't be leaving," Thranduil sighed, realizing the little elf's fears. "Not for a very long time. I won't leave until you are ready for me to leave."
"I love you, Ada." Legolas's soft voice made the young king smile as he held his son close. "I love you very much."
"And I love you too, my little Greenleaf." He lightly kissed the top of the elfling's head. "I love you more than words can say."
Smiling for the first time in weeks, Legolas yawned. He didn't want to admit it, but the feeling of safety that he felt being held in his Adar's arms, made him sleepy. His green eyes began to drift close, and Thranduil smiled. Slowly, he stood; adjusting the sleepy five-year-old in his arms, and began to open the door into the hallway, fully intending to tuck the elfling into bed. As he started opening the door, he felt Legolas tense in his arms, looking into his father's face with a curious look in his eyes.
"Ada? Can I stay here little longer? Please?" Green eyes looked pleadingly up into identical ones. His voice softened as he again played with the button on the front of the king's robes. "It feels . . . nice, safe. Please?"
Thranduil smiled down into those innocent eyes, seeing the elfling's arms tighten around the doll's soft body. "Of course you can, my son, of course."
"Thank you, Ada." The elfling said sleepily as he yawned, snuggling up against his father's warm chest. Thranduil smiled as he sat in a chair near the fire, watching his son fall asleep. Looking into the flames, the young king realized how tired he was himself. Kissing Legolas lightly on top of his head, he allowed himself to slip into the reverie of the elves.
* * * * *
Hours later, Cìrélch walked into the study to find both father and son sleeping peacefully in the chair before the low fire. The last few weeks had been really hard on Thranduil, hardly allowing time for the young king to get the rest he needed. Smiling, the older elf placed a blanket around the crown prince and ruling king of Mirkwood, glad that they would finally get some sleep.
* * * * *
[A/N] I hope you like! ^-^! I had a lot of fun writing this, especially since this plot bunny has been stuck in my head for the longest time. **Grrr.** Please review! And be nice!!