Why hello there, readers. If you didn't figure it out from the title, I'm introducing an new character this chapter (and if you didn't figure it out from THAT, you should figure it out from the second paragraph (and if you don't figure it out from the second paragraph, you should figure it out at the end because that's when I directly tell you the kiddo's name (or rather, Thranduil does))).

Is what I just did grammatically legal?

"Felrion!"

Kilvara yawned widely and sat halfway up in bed. "What does Galion want at this time of—SKY! SKY'S IN LABOR! HURRY!" She shot out of bed and started tearing through the dresser as her husband (who was already up and dressed) calmly retrieved the bag he'd packed for this exact situation and went out to meet the butler, who'd been sleeping at Thranduil and Sky's house lately in case someone needed to go get the healer.

Galion looked nearly as excited (though not as nervous) as he had during Firith's birth. "The baby's coming! I would have come sooner, but Sky told me not to get you until Thranduil started yelling at me for still being there. I'm going to go tell Taensirion and Lanthirel after this." He paused, panting from his rush to get there.

That sounded like Sky. "When did the contractions start?"

"Four and a half hours ago," Galion confessed sheepishly. "She only just woke Thranduil up because she thinks she's getting close... He wasn't happy."

"Ah, better hurry, then. Don't look so guilty, Galion; I told her she could wait a while if everything seemed fine, since we live nearby. See you in a few minutes." Kilvara joined them, and the healer and his wife took to the trees.

Galion raced toward Taensirion and Lanthirel's house; Sky had specifically asked him to bring Lanthirel when he fetched the healer, and he was pretty sure the queen wasn't the only one who needed coaching.

. . . . . .

"Ow... ow... ow... OW... AAAAAHHHH!"

Felrion dropped the towel he'd been holding upon hearing the queen's bloodcurdling scream, and spun around to see Thranduil rushing over from his pacing spot to cradle her head in his hands. Storm, on the other hand (who'd somehow shown up before Felrion even though no one remembered to alert him), smirked a little, which confused the healer until he took a better look at Sky.

The brave little she-elf's eyes were sparkling as the contraction faded. "Look at that, it does hurt less if you scream!"

"Oh, thank goodness," Kilvara said, handing the towel back to Felrion and going over to her friend.

Thranduil, evidently, was too stressed to even bother being angry. "How much pain are you in?" he asked, very softly.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Hardly any right now. Calm down, I'm fine."

He resumed pacing. "Right. Of course you are."

"Don't make me come over there."

He ignored her. "Healer, is it supposed to be taking this long?"

"She's fine," Felrion said without glancing at either of them.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, Thranduil, I am absolutely, positively certain. In fact, the way things are going, it looks like this will be the easiest birth I've attended in a long time. Sky, is he bothering you?"

"Yes. Thranduil, come sit next to me and shush."

Thranduil climbed up on the other side of the bed and put his arm around Sky.

"Now you're squeezing me," she told him irritably. "Ouch... Here comes another one... Ow..."

"I am so sorry..." He grabbed her hand instead. "Is there any way I can help?"

She eyed him and didn't answer.

Storm left his post by the window and went out the door, returning a moment later with Lanthirel, Taensirion, and Galion. The she-elf immediately went to help Sky through the contraction, while Taensirion moved over to Thranduil, chuckling at the king's obvious emotional state. "Perhaps we should take a walk, hmm?"

Thranduil stared at him like he was crazy.

"Yes, take him," Sky grunted, pushing her husband toward the advisor. "He's getting on my nerves. OW. Felrion, they're getting stronger."

"I was about to kick him out, anyway," Felrion added, thankfully seeming oblivious to Taensirion's presence.

Kilvara nodded. "He's been pacing off and on since before we got here."

"Out you go," Storm announced, appearing next to the bed and pulling Thranduil toward the edge.

The king yanked his arm away from Storm. "I cannot leave! What if she needs me?"

"I don't think she needs someone to ask if she's going to die every thirty seconds," Storm noted. "Look, if Felrion says she'll be fine, then she will. I'll stay with her, and so will Felrion and Kilvara and Lanthirel, and you'll go with Taen and talk about babies until you can come back without annoying my sister. I'll come get you if I need to."

Thranduil shook his head and turned to Sky, who was relaxed at the moment. "I promise I will behave better; please do not make me leave."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're hyperventilating."

"Eithryn—" He worked to control his breathing. "What if something happens and I am not here? I... I cannot lose you."

Taensirion stepped in. "You are not going to lose her," he promised Thranduil, giving his friend a comforting hug. "Trust me, she is doing extremely well, and Felrion knows what he is doing." He sent what almost counted as a threatening look at the healer as he said it, but only Felrion and Storm noticed. "Please come with me and get some fresh air. Perhaps Galion could come, too?" he suggested, and the butler nodded.

Thranduil seemed torn, especially when Sky yelped again as another contraction started; they were clearly speeding up.

"Thranduil," Taensirion said firmly, "come with me. I will drag you out if I must."

Thranduil obeyed, moving slowly and stiffly as if it were physically painful to leave his beloved wife.

Taensirion put an arm around him and guided him out the door, Galion following. "She will be just fine," he told the panicked king. "As will your child. I know it is hard to be away from them, but you need to relax and move around for a few minutes."

"The sun is rising," Galion put in, indicating the leaves above, which were slowly lighting up. "Shall we go see?"

"Mm," said Thranduil, trying to hear what was going on in the bedroom.

Taensirion pulled him toward a branch which twisted within jumping distance of the balcony. "Good idea, Galion."

The three elves climbed up into the tallest tree in the area, from which they could watch as the sunrise began. Thranduil would not have noticed if the tree caught on fire, so intent was he on hearing any sound from his home a few trees away; Taensirion and Galion noticed this and shook their heads in amusement and sympathy.

Taensirion tapped the king's shoulder to get his attention. "Do you have names picked out yet?"

"I believe so..." He smiled to himself as he looked out over the early-summer trees, their leaves rippling in the light breeze. Eithryn wanted him to name the baby, perhaps because she hoped it would help him bond with their child.

His two friends waited. "Are you going to tell us?" Galion prompted.

"Not yet." He was still not sure of his choices.

"I suppose we will find out soon enough," Taensirion pointed out. "You know, I had to drag your father out, too."

"Really?" Thranduil could not imagine Oropher pacing nervously as he had been doing.

"Yes, he was driving your mother insane; we practiced with our blades for six hours. I joked that I might be more exhausted than your mother by the time you finally came."

Thranduil chuckled, feeling better about his own behavior. "And what did you do?"

"I stayed with Lanthirel the whole time and held her hand. I was frightened to death the first time, but it was much easier by the third—for both of us, I think."

"Disappointing. You, Galion?"

The Silvan elf laughed. "I think I helped too much."

"Do explain."

"I wanted to keep her as comfortable as I could, so I was running back and forth the whole time, trying to get her everything she wanted. Felrion finally made me sit down, but then, I think I would've collapsed soon, anyway."

"Ah."

"I didn't sleep much the next night, either," Galion mused. "Or for the next few years; at least, that's what it felt like."

"Newborns do not always follow our schedules," Taensirion agreed.

Or do anything else, Thranduil thought. He still was not sure exactly what he was supposed to do with the baby besides hold it all the time, but perhaps there was some way they could interact. "Tell me, is there anything I can do to bond with it—I mean him or her?"

Galion appeared unable to understand why anyone would ever have trouble with this, but Taensirion had an answer ready. "The easiest thing you can do is to hold them as often as possible."

Of course. He resisted the urge to sigh as he imagined carrying a baby everywhere for the next few years.

But Taensirion was not done. "You used to love it when your father sang to you."

Yes, he remembered that clearly, but his mother had told him that his father had not discovered his ability to sing (and he was quite skilled, which surprised most elves) until Thranduil was a year old. "Would a newborn even know I was singing?"

"Yes, of course," Galion put in. "I sang to Firith all the time, and he loved it. I still do."

"And he or she should know your voice, too," Taensirion added. "They can hear from inside their mothers, I believe."

"Really." So Eithryn's constant chattering to the baby when it was inside her might have done some good. "What else?"

"Sometimes they like to suck on your fingers," Galion said. "They think they're food."

"It is calming in the same way nursing is, I expect," agreed Taensirion.

Thranduil was not planning to put his finger in an infant's mouth anytime soon. "I see."

"It also helps to bounce them, and to just talk," the other Sindar continued. "I suppose that will come more easily to your wife, but you will get used to it."

Everything came more easily to Eithryn.

"You'll do fine, King Thranduil," Galion promised him. The Silvan elf put a hand on one of the king's shoulders, and Taensirion put his on the other. "You'll fall in love the instant you first hold the little one, believe me."

He hoped so. He desperately wanted to love his child, and to raise them into an elf he could be proud of, but he did not know how. Then again, he had plenty of elves around him who would make sure he did it right. The little prince or princess already had a family far beyond their parents... and the uncle who was leaping up toward them two branches at a time. Thranduil cried out and raced down to meet his brother-in-law halfway.

"They want to know how badly you want to be there when the baby comes out," Coryn said, landing lightly on a small branch next to the larger one Thranduil stood on. "Because if you do, you'd better hurry. That kid's coming fast."

Thranduil swallowed hard, but he was not sure he wanted to watch the final moments of the birth, so he started down at a slower pace; it turned out to be a good idea, anyway, because his legs felt a bit wobbly. Perhaps the treetops were not the best place to go... he had completely forgotten about the sunrise, too.

"Is that a no?" Coryn wondered. "Can't blame you."

Thranduil hardly heard him. "How is Eithryn doing?"

"Sky's great," Coryn promised. "She has been screaming a bit here and there, just to warn you, but I don't think it's as much as normal. She's tough; it hurts, but she's still mostly excited."

The king imagined the expression on his wife's face when she saw their baby, and immediately felt better. This was all for her, after all.

They started hearing screams—though they were more of yells—as they descended, and when they were nearly to the house, Thranduil heard a shriek that made his blood run cold. He sprinted along the last few branches and into the house, but skidded to a stop as he heard a new sound.

A crying baby.

Taensirion caught up to the frozen king and nudged him forward. "Go on."

After a bit more prodding, Thranduil took the last few steps into the bedroom, where the first thing he noticed was that Eithryn was practically glowing with joy, and in her arms...

"Your son," Felrion told him.

Galion had been wrong; Thranduil did not need to hold the tiny blond-haired child—his son!—to love him. His heart was ready to burst from the feeling already as he circled the bed to kneel next to Eithryn, reaching out with a shaky hand to touch the baby's face. "Legolas," he whispered. Yes, the name fit. He had originally planned to give the child that name only if his eyes were green—they were blue, a little darker than his—but Greenleaf fit this little prince regardless.

"Legolas," Eithryn echoed. "I like it."

"Legolas," the others repeated, one by one, but the royal couple did not notice them.

Eithryn lifted the baby off her chest and offered him to his father, who gladly accepted. He was a bit purple (which, thankfully, Thranduil had been warned about), and a little squished, but in Thranduil's opinion, he was beautiful. And those eyes... he really had been hoping for green eyes, but somehow he could tell their son was going to have his mother's eyes, regardless of color. The huge blue orbs were darting around the room, trying to make sense of this colorful, bright new world, and the baby was apparently too curious to cry. On an impulse, Thranduil shifted Legolas to one arm and tickled the baby's tiny palm with one finger; he was irrationally happy when his son proved to have a good grip.

I tell you, by the time Legolas is grown up, I'm going to know more about babies than any non-parent should because of all the research I've been doing. (So I sure hope this is accurate.)