"But, Ada! It will get me," the young prince cried loudly and buried himself in the folds of his father's cloak.

"Legolas, there is no Balrog. there is nothing to fear," he stated calmly and waited for his son to re-emerge from the waves of silver fabric. At first he could see only the top of a golden head but then wide and piercing eyes appeared. They seemed to glisten with moisture and the King was taken aback a little. He was not used to seeing things that cried. Those around him were always certain to mask their fears to be seen as brave and strong and his son was still to him a strange new thing. Thranduil had always needed to be strong and brave but only now did it feel he had a purpose behind it.

In a very unkingly fashion he stooped to pick up his son and cradled him close. He had seen eyes that glistened like that before and it was at a time when he had to bid goodbye. How he reminded him of her. Her scent lingered on in new skin and Thranduil stroked the soft blonde hair that blended with his own as his son rested against his shoulder.

"I shall always protect you, Legolas," he whispered in the age old language.

"Melin," little Legolas whispered.

"Gin Melathon an-uir," Thranduil replied as he kissed him on the forehead.


Melin-(childlike version of 'I love you')
Gin Melathon an-uir-You shall have my love for eternity