Eight days later, Legolas sat silently in a flet near the border of the Woodland realm. A message had been delivered the day before stating that the boy would be arriving within the next two days, and Legolas did not want to leave him waiting and frightened at the edge of the wood.

The prince leaned against the trunk of the tree, speaking with the guards and scouts who watched the border daily, all of them eager to meet little Estel, all of them comforting Legolas who still grieved for the loss of Aragorn and Arwen. The grief of Elves was deep and enveloping, flooding their very souls. When the sorrow became too great to bear, an Elf would begin to fade, and without aid, would pass. There was not much worry in the case of Legolas, for he had been through the loss of a friend many times, but none of his people wished to see their prince upset, and many of the scouts were his friends. They hoped to brighten his spirits before Estel arrived.

At around midday, a horn blew in the distance: three trumpets reverberated through the treetops.

"He has reached the boarder." One of the scouts, a young Elf called Amrod announced, standing on the wooden platform and pressing his own horn to his lips, sending forth one long trumpet in reply.

"Shall we go and meet him, Legolas?" Another guard, one Legolas had known since childhood, asked.

"No, Gildor. We will wait here. I do not want to overwhelm him. I'm sure he is frightened." The prince answered, though he felt his heart leap in anticipation, and hung his long, lithe legs over the side of the flet, looing down to the forest floor some thirty feet below.

"Elladan came by yesterday, scouting for Estel's company. He said the boy was excited to be coming." Amrod said with a smile, sitting next to the prince, his legs crossed, his bow laid down on the flet next to him. Legolas had taught Amrod to shoot when he was small, for Amrod was still a child in the eyes of the Elves, appearing sixteen or seventeen to the eyes of a man. Legolas smiled.

"Did he bring other tidings?" he asked. Gildor crouched behind the two, placing a hand on Legolas' shoulder to listen to the conversation, equally as curious about the boy. Nothing like this had happened in Mirkwood for as long as anyone could remember, which meant it probably hadn't happened before.

"Well…" Amrod continued, an undertone of worry evident in his lark-like voice. "He said he's been badly hurt…but he would not say in what way."

"I do hope he's alright." Gildor stated, casting his eyes down.

"As do I." Legolas said, sitting quietly, watching the ground far below. It was not long before the sound of hooves and chatter of men and elves became evident to Legolas' sensitive ears.

"They're here!" Amrod exclaimed, jumping off of the platform and leaping from one limb to the next, lower and lower, until his feet touched down soundlessly on the leafy forest floor. Legolas was quick to follow, searching for the silver circlet he had taken off while sitting on the flet. Estel hadn't met Legolas, at least not recently enough to remember him, and he wanted the boy to know who he was. All the boy knew was that Legolas was a prince and that he was one of his father's good friends, nothing more. Legolas replaced the crown carefully before leaping from the flet and landing gracefully on the ground without so much as a scuff on his boots. Moments later, the parade rounded the corner, Estel riding out in front, sitting with Elrohir on a white horse. Legolas smiled at the child, his heartstrings gently strummed by the likeness the boy had to Aragorn. His eyes were bright and blue; identical to the man Legolas had spent so much of his life with. The boy's hair was a deep, dark brown with just a bit of a wave, again, just like Aragorn's. His hair stopped at his slender, but strong, shoulders. The boy was clearly more Elf than Man. Even his ears were ever so slightly pointed, for Aragorn had elfish ancestry, and together with Arwen's highelven blood, he was something of a three-quarter Elf, and it showed. He wasn't as clumsy in his appearance as other Men, and his eyes were not as dull and preoccupied. He was a beautiful child, a pristine, living memory of Arwen and Aragorn.

The boy smiled when his eyes met Legolas for the first time. The Elf returned the smile and walked to the horse the boy was sharing with Elrohir. He sat in front of Elrond's son, with the Elf's strong arms on either side of him, steering the horse.

"Hello, Estel." Legolas said, offering the boy his hand. He took it and shook, grinning from ear to ear.

"Are you the prince?" he asked, his voice frothy and light, the voice of childhood.

"I am. And I am pleased to say that you will be staying with me in the palace." Legolas replied, his eyes bright.

"He's done nothing but speak of you since we left Imladris. He's been asking so many questions about you."

"I wanted to know." The little boy said with a nervous smile, his fair face turning a rosy shade of pink. Legolas smiled and laughed lightly at the boy's awkwardness.

"That's alright, Estel. I'd be happy to answer your remaining questions, if Elrohir's responses were not to your satisfaction." The boy smiled and sighed, his eyes fluttering, hanging half open. He leaned back against Elrohir's chest, obviously very tired, from travel or his injuries Legolas was not sure, though he had not yet seen any sign of struggle or wounds on the boy.

"Come, your Highness. Have my horse. We shall ride back together." An Elf called Tuor, named after the father of Eärendil, said, dismounting his own grey steed and offering the reigns to Legolas.

"I will walk back." The prince answered, for he would have felt guilty taking another's horse, forcing them to walk. "I could not force you from your steed."

"Nay, your Highness. Larkin will carry us both. He is a strong steed, and has carried far heavier than the likes of you." Tuor laughed. Legolas smiled and mounted the horse behind him, waving to Amrod as he swung back up into the treetops. Gildor also gave a wave from the flet high in the tree.

—o0o—

The party arrived at the palace gates shortly, where Thranduil was waiting happily. The King approached Elrohir's horse and offered the little boy his hand.

"We are quite happy to have you here, Estel. You look just like your Papa." Thranduil said with a smile, brushing a stray strand of hair back behind the boy's ear.

"And you look like Prince Legolas." Estel smiled as Legolas dismounted Tuor's horse.

"I think it may be the other way around, Estel. Lord Thranduil is far older than I." Legolas noted, offering the boy a hand to aid him off of the high horse. He looked at Legolas, a look of fear and minor embarrassment in his bright eyes. Legolas' smile vanished. Elrohir, noting the boy's awkwardness, dismounted first and lifted the boy up under the arms and placing him down gently on the ground. The boy crossed his arms over his chest and stood quietly. Legolas feared he had offended the child somehow, and worried that Estel would not warm up to him. Elrohir placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and looked down to him.

"You're going to have to show them at some point, Estel. Do not be afraid." Elrohir said to him quietly, taking the boy's left arm and coaxing him to uncross it. Legolas watched from a bit of a distance, curious, but staying away. He did not want to crowd the boy, and certainly did not want to make him nervous. He already seemed tearful as Elrohir knelt down in front of him, speaking to him softly and kindly. Eventually the boy nodded, letting Elrohir wipe away his tears. Estel uncrossed his arms, but held his left elbow in his right hand, still attempting to hide his flaw. It was then that Legolas became aware of what had happened. Estel had in fact been badly wounded in a very permanent way. His lower left arm was missing from about four inches below his elbow. Legolas hadn't noticed, for he hadn't been facing the boy's left side when he was on the horse with Elrohir, and Estel hid it well. His long, silvery sleeves, characteristic of the clothing from Imladris, covered his flaw almost perfectly, for the opposite sleeve almost covered his intact hand completely.

Legolas looked down briefly, unsure what to say. His mind raced, thinking of all of the things Estel would not be able to do. He would never climb trees with the other Elfish children. He could not tie his shoes or play ball or swing from the low branches on the paths in the woods. He could not shoot a bow.

"That's quite alright, Estel." Legolas said after a brief silence. "It is not noticeable at all." He smiled, approaching the boy and taking his hand. "Would you like to see your bedroom?" the prince asked, changing the subject as best he could. Estel nodded and smiled, sniffling away the last bit of his tears. Thranduil tended to the rest of the party, welcoming them through the gate and out into the back gardens where food and drink had been laid out for them. They were expected to stay for at least a day to rest and recover before returning to Imladris. Legolas held open the heavy palace door for the little boy, who looked up in awe at the high ceilings and raw wood arches, bringing the beauty of the forest inside.

"It is very pretty here." Estel said, his eyes wandering here and there, resting for a few moments on the massive pair of antlers that sat above Thranduil's throne.

"I am very glad you think so. We've been preparing for your arrival for some time now." Legolas explained, continuing through the throne room, down a long corridor, and finally onto the central staircase, which spiraled up inside of a large tree trunk. All of the upper rooms could be reached from that single spiraling staircase. Estel's bedroom was at the very top of the staircase, in the same wing as Thranduil and Legolas' bedchambers.

"I was nervous that you wouldn't like me…" Estel admitted as they reached the top of the stairs.

"And why would you fear that?" Legolas asked, sitting at the top of the stairs, noticing how taxing the climb had been on the little boy. He was out of breath and tired from the climb. His recent injury did not help matters. He was still very pale and thinner than he should have been.

"My Papa always said that he would send me here to learn to shoot a bow like you…but now I can't…" he said, casting his eyes down to his lap, rubbing at the clean cloth bandages that were wrapped around his wound.

"Not to worry, Estel. I'm sure you're very good at other things. Shooting with a pang is not the only skill I value." Legolas said with a smile. "I hear you are a very talented artist."

"I like drawing pictures…I'm not sure if I'm very good at it, though…"

"I've had a desk put in your room with lots of pens and inks of all colors and sizes. Pencils and rubbers as well."

"Really?" Estel mused, looking up with a bright smile, his eyes shining.

"Yes really. I've arranged for a peacock feather quill as well. A little bird told me you've been asking for one." Legolas added, standing and holding the door to the long hallway. The little boy smiled, overjoyed.

At that point, the tall tree trunk opened up into the main palace, which was all of wood and logs, with wide windows that let in the dewy morning light.

"You can see everything from up here!" he cooed, leaning on one of the windowsills, looking out over Mirkwood.

"If you look out to the East, you can see Erebor and the Lonely Mountain, the greatest kingdom of the dwarves." Legolas said, kneeling down behind the boy and pointing in the direction of the distant mountain. "Can you see it?"

"Yes! Legolas, could we go there someday?"

"If you'd like. I have a dear friend who could accompany us."

"Gimli? Papa told me about him."

"Yes. He is a very close friend of mine. But come, I want you to see your bedroom! I've worked all week to make it perfect for you." Legolas smiled as he stood up, taking the boy's hand and leading him the short distance down the hall.

The door to the boy's room was not a door at all, but a thick woven tapestry of blue, green, and silver that could be pulled back and tied at the side of the door. The room was large, but not so large as to be stark and uninviting, with large windows that looked out over the Woodland Realm. The bed was large and cozy, pushed into the far corner under the pitch of the roof, a sheer curtain hanging from the ceiling to enclose the quiet corner. The bed was piled with cozy feather blankets of the most beautiful raw silk, and pillows of every size and shape were stacked high against the wall, creating a sort of nest, perfectly sized for Estel's little body. The boy's trunk had already been brought up to the room, and his favorite stuffed thing, a little bear that had belonged to Aragorn, sat silently and contented on the bed, smiling up at the child as he admired his new living arrangements.

Just next to the foot of the bed was a large desk that curved around the corner of the room, complete with drawers and shelves, all of them filled with all the materials the boy could ever want: paper ranging from tissue-thin to canvas board, pencils of different weight and color, ink, pens in all sizes, watercolor paints, oil paints, a small figure with moveable joints to draw from, and the skull of a young buck filled the nooks and crannies, as well as numerous other objects, all of it prompting a smile from the little boy. His eyes flashed, filled with a creative, blue fire that he could hardly contain.

"This is all just for me?" he asked, looking around the room, down to the woven carpet and all the way up to the cluster of sparkling lanterns that covered the majority of the ceiling. He walked to the window and ran the light, cotton curtains through his hand, admiring the view briefly before returning his attention to his desk. He sat in the cushioned chair, pulled his knees up to his chest, and smiled at Legolas.

"Of course. I want you to be happy here." The Elf replied, sitting on the footboard of the bed. The boy suddenly leapt from the chair and flung himself at Legolas, knocking him backwards and onto the bed, Estel hugging him around his chest. Legolas laughed brightly, something he hadn't done since news of his friends' death, and ran his thin hand through the boy's dark, wavy hair.

"Thank you. I am happy to be here, if I cannot be with my Mama and Papa." He chuckled lightly. "I did not think Elves could fall down so easily." He added, looking up at Legolas.

"And I did not think that little boys had so much strength." He replied, propping himself up on his elbows.