Hi there! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Nina, earthdragon (thanks for letting me know about medieval festivals in the UK!) and Ninde (¡hola! ¡Qué bien que alguien más hable español por aquí!), thanks a lot!

One of these days I'll go back to posting on Saturdays… but today is not that day! Since I missed last week's update and I've had this ready for a couple days now, I thought you wouldn't mind an early post. I hope you enjoy!

Thanks to awilliamsbbc98 for beta-reading!

Summary: Greenwood is a kingdom at war, and it is only a matter of time before the youngest among the elves have their first contact with the enemy.

Characters: Legolas, Thranduil.

A Shadow Problem

Silence; the most deafening sound of them all.

Especially the silence of one who by no means should be quiet but jumping around, climbing trees, ready to explore the whole world with those big blue eyes that seemed too afraid to blink in case they missed something.

For him to be sitting on his father's lap, eyes clenched close and his hands covering his ears, as if trying to shut the whole world down, was not right. It was not fair.

Greenwood was a realm at war, that was sadly undeniable. Overshadowed as it was by darkness, it was only a matter of time before the youngest had their first contact with the enemy. But that was precisely why they were trained without end and taught everything the elves knew about the shadow that lurked, before being allowed to enter the depths of the forest. There was a reason why Thranduil had established a security perimeter around the Palace, which the younger ones among them were not authorized to trespass unless they were accompanied by someone trained, or someone who, at the very least, already knew of the shadow and its dangers. And yet, in spite of all their precautions, the first contact with darkness and its creatures was always something terrifying, something everyone remembered for the rest of their lives, and nobody was willing to talk about. So, if it had that effect on the most prepared elves, what wouldn't it do to an elfling who did not even fully understand what darkness was?

To be fair, no one was really to blame. Since leaving Lake Town, Legolas had seemed to grow a pair of extra shadows. Daeron and Thranduil had hovered over him constantly, to the point that Legolas hadn't breathed without them knowing. But the shadow only needed to get it right once.

A shiver ran through Kaela's body at the remembrance of Thranduil's panicked face when he had discovered that the shape on his son's bed was not him, but, in fact, a carefully folded pillow. Orders had been promptly given, and every elf had spread out to find the little Prince. They were only a few elves, but they worked and searched like a hundred. And how formidable Thranduil had looked. His eyes had shone like stars, as if illuminated by Varda herself, and his hair braided in the warrior fashion made him look like the fearsome King Kaela knew he was. If only his enemies had seen him, they would have never dared to set foot in Greenwood again. It made Kaela proud to call him King, and judging by the faces of every other warrior on the party, he was not the only one. Thranduil had searched tirelessly, and the healer could swear the trees bowed at his path.

Thank the Valar, it had not been long until they found Legolas. Or rather, until they heard him. Every elf's heart had stopped at the loud scream that had echoed through the forest.

"Ada!"

Kaela had instantly felt someone pass him at a speed he had thought impossible until then, everyone following not a second later. Kaela gulped, and shook his head at the horrifying scene they had run into.

Legolas, a little elfling full of light, twisted around in the arms of a laughing orc.

"Let him go," Thranduil had hissed, and the world had frozen at his words. The forest had fallen in a tense silence, and even the stars seemed to pale.

The orc had simply laughed harder, proof of the little intelligence these creatures possessed. You did not laugh while holding the King's son against his will. And you most certainly did not laugh when the King ordered you something. You ran as fast as you could and prayed Thranduil was having a slow day. Though Kaela suspected that not even Melkor himself would have been able to give shelter to the creature now.

Everything that followed was a blur on Kaela's mind. Everything, that is, but the white and golden bolt Thranduil had turned into. He remembered that with surprising detail. The healer was pretty sure Thranduil alone could have fought and killed every orc in the forest.

The next thing Kaela recalled was falling to his knees in front of Thranduil, who was slumped against a tree with a trembling elfling completely tucked into his tunic. The King had his eyes closed, and all his body was folded around his son, as he whispered him something Kaela could not quite catch.

"Thranduil," he had said, "Thranduil let me see. I need to see Legolas."

But the King had not moved, or even acknowledged Kaela. He had continued to rock his son, who was missing from the world buried in his father's embrace. Kaela had to physically remove Thranduil's arms so he could get a glimpse of the elfling.

The healer sat on his heels, head down, as he recalled how small Legolas had seemed. Eyes completely shut, he had been clinging to his father's tunic for dear life. There were stains of blood on his clothes, and a gash on his head. Kaela had run his hands over the elfling's body, in search of further injury, and had looked for any reaction from Legolas. He had none, whether it was for the absence of wounds or the shock, Kaela did not know, but it made his heart unsettle. At the end, the healer had to force Legolas out of his father's arms so he could take a proper look, and he did not know who had suffered more from the momentary separation, Legolas or the King. Daeron had almost had to sit on Thranduil so he wouldn't snap Legolas out of Kaela's hands. And the poor child had cried and kicked in spite of the healer's reassurances. Legolas had sustained several bruises and shallow gashes, but they would have to wait until everyone was calmer. Sometimes, peace of mind was more effective than physical wellbeing.

Once back in the camp, Thranduil had fallen against a tree again, closed his eyes, and he and Legolas had shut themselves from the world. Kaela was fairly sure an oliphant could come stomp down the camp and they would not have noticed it.

"How are they?" Daeron interrupted Kaela's thoughts, handing him a roll of bandages that the healer put on his bag as he eyed the King and Prince.

"I don't know. They won't talk or even react to anyone. It's as if they were in a bubble and no one is allowed in."

Daeron looked at the slumped figure. He had never seen his friend, the King, as defeated-looking as he was now. "Legolas is far too young to have faced such darkness, Kaela."

"I know." Kaela massaged the bridge of his nose, preoccupied.

"And he just…," Daeron said in a trembling voice. Kaela glanced him and saw he had bright eyes. "He is just so innocent; he doesn't deserve this."

"He doesn't."

They turned at the sudden rustle of clothing, and they saw Thranduil stand up and walk to his tent, without sparing a glance to any of the elves he passed. He let the curtain that served as door fall and disappeared, once again, from the world.

XxX

Thranduil could very well remember the first time he had seen an orc. It had taken all his willpower and restrain not to be sick, especially after learning where those treacherous creatures came from. But he had been old enough, trained and warned over and over again about it.

His son was not.

His son was an innocent child, whose young age was no match for his thirst for the world.

Thranduil sat Legolas on the bed, as he divested him of the stained tunic. The King examined the bright blue marred with blood and mud. It could probably be cleaned, but Thranduil did not think he could bear to look at it again. He walked towards the entrance of the tent and stepped outside. Immediately, Daeron was in front of him.

"Burn it," Thranduil handed him the tunic. "Fray it, turn it into bandages, I don't care."

Daeron nodded and took the tunic, walking towards the fire. Thranduil turned and closed the tent again. Legolas was sitting on the bed, looking down. At least he was no longer covering his ears. Little steps.

Thranduil kneeled in front of the big trunk that contained Legolas' clothes and went through it, looking for something warm. "I am never letting your mother pack again. And if she is, I expect her to include a map through this," he muttered to himself, looking dismayed at the towers of clothes.

At last he resigned for the first thing he saw and helped Legolas up. Thranduil could feel his hands trembling as he distractedly put the clothing over his son's head. He frowned when he found himself staring at an extra limb he did not know where to put. "What is this? Why does this thing have three sleeves?" He said, as he took the extra part and inspected it.

"I think that's a leg."

Thranduil's head shot up in surprise. That was the first time his son had talked since he had been freed from the orc.

"A leg?" Thranduil asked, smiling softly. He had to tread carefully now. Legolas nodded and looked down.

"I think this is the head," he pointed at a hole, bringing it to eye level and examining it just as Thranduil had done before.

"Nay, it's too small. That must be an arm." The King sat beside his son. "Maybe this is the head?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know either."

Father and son looked at each other for a moment, and Thranduil felt his heart skip a beat when a faint smile appeared on Legolas' lips. He pointed at it with a finger as he gasped.

"Did you just smile? You did! You smiled!" He exclaimed, humming a merry tune. "Now you can't be sad!"

Legolas swiftly schooled his expression, but could not contain himself once his father took his hands and made him dance to the rhythm of the melody he sang. "You've smiled, you can be sad no more."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't. Once you've smiled, you can't be sad. Everyone knows this."

"But I am still a bit sad." Legolas suddenly became serious, limply dropping his arms to his side with a lost expression on his face. His father sighed, taking him in his arms.

"I know, my little one. I am a bit sad too," he said, as he reached for a simple green shirt and put it over his son's head.

"Why was that animal so bad?"

Thranduil looked forward at the entrance of the tent, unable to face his son and the sadness that his words brought. "That… animal is called an orc, little leaf. And they are bad by nature."

"Like the squirrel that scratched me that time?"

"No," Thranduil half laughed, "that squirrel was just scared. Orcs are evil and they seek to do harm."

Legolas nodded slowly. "He said he was going to eat me," he whispered.

Thranduil felt his heart burst in flames as he hugged Legolas tighter. "I swear nothing bad will happen to you while I'm here, ion-nin. I swear it."

"Ada, why are the shadows bad?"

"They are not bad in themselves, little leaf," Thranduil said with a heavy sigh. A fleeting thought crossed his mind and he smiled at his son. "In fact, shadows can be very funny if you know how to use them."

"That's not true. They are ugly and bad and not funny at all."

"I'll show you." Thranduil stood up and walked towards the entrance, stopping when Legolas clung to him tightly.

"I don't want to go outside," he cried out, burying his face on his father's tunic.

"Legolas, look at me." Thranduil grabbed his son's chin and gently turned his face towards him. "Do you trust me?"

Legolas nodded without hesitation, and Thranduil pushed back the cloth that separated them from the camp. Immediately, every warrior's gaze was upon them, but Thranduil ignored them. Instead, he approached Daeron.

"Can you get me a few candles and a blanket? And hang the blanket over there?" Thranduil pointed a branch high enough to serve his purpose. Daeron nodded and shortly afterwards Thranduil was supervising the placement of the candles and the white sheet. The elves began to approach them, curious about the strange behaviour of their King. At last, Thranduil nodded in approval and he bent down trying to unclasp Legolas' hands from his tunic.

"No," Legolas complained, but Daeron approached them and he gently took the Prince and sat him on his own lap on the ground.

"I'm right here, Legolas," Thranduil said, stroking his cheek. "Trust me. I'll show you how fun shadows can be." Thranduil sat between the candles and the blanket. "Pay close attention."

The King put his hands together and extended them in front of the beam of light, the shadow reflecting on the sheet. Legolas gasped, looking wide eye at the shape that now appeared on it.

"A rabbit!" He said in surprise, pointing at it and turning to check that Daeron also saw what he was seeing.

Daeron nodded and laughed. "It's a little rabbit!"

"What is it now, Legolas?" Thranduil changed the position of his hands, and an eagle appeared projected by the light of the candles.

"It's a bird!"

"Very good, Legolas!"

The elfling turned to Daeron with a smile on his face. "Now you."

Daeron laughed and changed positions with Thranduil. "Let's see… what about this?"

The weight that Thranduil had carried in his heart lifted with each new laugh and clap that his son gave to encourage the many elves who were now queuing up to demonstrate their skills at making shadow puppets. What at first had been a vague attempt to cheer his son up had now become a competition in every sense of the word. As night advanced, Thranduil felt Legolas succumb to sleep and, shortly after, the little Prince closed his eyes, rocked by the laughter and cheerful words of the others. Although their main spectator was no longer aware, the elves continued with the show.

Thranduil smiled at Kaela as the healer dropped by his side. "How is he?" He asked.

Thranduil shrugged, looking at the child and feeling his rhythmic breathing under his hand. "I think he is better."

Kaela nodded and watched the elves who were about to proclaim the winner of the contest. "You did well, Thranduil."

"He is an easy one to distract."

"I'm not only talking about Legolas," Kaela said, nodding toward the smiling elves. Thranduil followed his gaze.

"Oh."

"You should have seen their faces an hour ago. This camp had the same atmosphere as a funeral. Look at them now."

Thranduil nodded, and some of his anguish seemed to leave him with his next breath, the contagious smiles of his warriors cheering his heart.

"Shortly before Legolas was born," Kaela said, smiling, "you said you were not sure if you would be able to be King and father at the same time. Do you remember what I told you?"

"Impossible to forget," Thranduil imitated the healer's stern expression, and said in a rumbling voice, "'Well, you should have thought about that before.'"

Both elves laughed, but Kaela fell silent shortly after and looked at Thranduil with a serious expression. "If this is not living proof that you are more than able, Thranduil, then I am not capable of distinguishing between a bandage and a curtain."

Thranduil snickered, but looked gratefully at the healer. "Thanks, Kaela."

"You are very welcome," Kaela stood up, patting Thranduil's shoulder. "It's funny, though."

"What is?"

"Let Elrond and Galadriel keep their rings of power," the healer said with a big smile on his face, "The King of Greenwood only needs a sheet and three candles to drive the shadow away."

Their laugh echoed through the forest and, believe it or not, darkness yielded before it.

Never underestimate the light of a candle and the sound of a laugh. I hope you enjoyed, if you did, don't forget to let me know! See you, hopefully, next Saturday!