"Taen!"
"Hello, Legolas. How are you today?"
Legolas pulled on Taensirion's hand until the adult elf resumed his walk toward the elfling's house. "Tafor is here!"
"Galion brought Tathor?" Taensirion sped up; he had not yet gotten to meet Galion's three-day-old son.
"He not vewy fun," Legolas said skeptically, running to keep up with Taensirion's long legs. "He too wittle to pway games."
"So were you a few years ago," Taensirion told him.
"I was wittle?"
"Yes, you were very little. Do not worry; soon Tathor will be big enough to play with you. Did you do anything with your Ada today?"
"We pwayed owcs and ewves," Legolas explained. "But den Ada was sad, so we had to stop."
Taensirion could think of a few ways that particular game might have hit a nerve.
"Gawwion, Gawwion!" Legolas yelled upon entering the house. "Taen comed! He want to see Tafor!"
The prince was frantically shushed by the new baby's older brother, who was holding the bundled-up newborn next to the window. "Don't scare him, Legolas!"
"It's all right," said Galion, entering from the direction of the bedroom. "Not much bothers him. You can hold him if you like."
Firith reluctantly surrendered his baby brother to Taensirion. "Be careful with him..."
"Of course," Taensirion agreed, thinking it was adorable that Firith was already so attached to the new baby. "Hello, little Tathor. He looks just like you, Firith." It was true; except for the deep sea-green eyes Tathor had inherited from his mother, he was the spitting image of Firith at three days old. Taensirion smiled down at the baby, humming a song he used to sing to his own children.
Legolas tugged on Taensirion's pant leg. "I come to youw house today?"
"Ah, yes, you are coming to my house... but I should check on your Ada first." He sighed and handed Tathor back to Firith.
"Ada vewy sick," Legolas said sadly as Taensirion went into the bedroom where Galion had been a minute before, knocking and pressing his ear to the door until he heard a mumbled "Come in", and then closing it behind him.
Almost a year had passed since the queen's death, and while Thranduil, miraculously, had not faded, there were still moments when Taensirion wondered if he would. Forget doing his job; he could hardly get out of bed most days, and thus Taensirion was effectively king for the time being, and his friends took turns babysitting Legolas to make sure the elfling got enough attention—the young prince spent as much time with Taensirion or Lanthirel, or Galion and Caliel and Firith, or Felrion and Kilvara as he did with his father, but Thranduil simply did not have enough energy to deal with the energetic young elf for long. And yes, the king did indeed look very sick.
"Hello," Taensirion murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to squeeze Thranduil's arm; the king was curled up under the covers with a closed book lying next to his pillow. "Have you met Tathor yet?"
"I have," Thranduil said; his voice was rough, but Taensirion was more concerned with how thin he looked; he seemed to lose weight no matter how much food they stuffed into him. At least he had apparently been up for long enough to play with Legolas earlier.
"Firith seems very protective of him," Taensirion continued in an attempt to keep his friend talking. "Just as he is with Legolas. He will make a good older brother, I think."
Thranduil nodded absently.
Taensirion's heart broke every time he saw his king like this. He remembered seeing Oropher hold his son for the first time, and wondering with him what the beautiful child would become. He had watched Thranduil grow, paying more attention to him than the young elf ever realized; he had laughed with Oropher at Thranduil's first attempts to attract the attention of the young she-elves, helped train him into a deadly warrior, cried for him when his mother died, watched him fall in love and marry and finally hold a child of his own.
And now this. Perhaps it was a mercy that Oropher was not here to see his son so utterly broken.
He turned his head as the door opened, and managed a smile when Galion entered. "He's so different from Firith," the butler remarked, sitting on the other side of the bed. "He doesn't scream his head off every time something happens that isn't to his liking."
"He already seems curious about his surroundings," Taensirion agreed. "Ah—who is staying tonight?"
"I am, I suppose."
Taensirion frowned. "You most certainly are not; your son was born three days ago! I will stay."
"Have you looked in a mirror recently?" Galion asked, eyebrow raised.
Taensirion sighed tiredly, well aware that he looked completely exhausted. "I will manage." He was gaining a new respect for monarchs—and he had thought his job was hard.
"Well, get some sleep before you come, then," Galion ordered.
"I shall." Taensirion rubbed Thranduil's shoulder and stood up; the king seemed to have been following their conversation despite it not involving him, which was certainly a good sign. "Oh, and Galion?"
"Hmm?"
"May I borrow your sons for a few minutes? I do not believe Lanthirel has met Tathor yet."
"Just for a bit; Tathor will be getting hungry soon."
"Thank you. And Legolas will be with me, Thranduil."
The king nodded. "Thank you—both of you—for caring for him," he told them sincerely. How he wished he was able to give his son all the attention he needed...
"Of course."
. . . . . .
"Aww, hey there, little Tathor. Aren't you a cutie?" Silana somehow managed to get to the baby before her mother—but it was Lanthirel who stole him from Firith.
Taensirion smiled as his wife cooed to the baby, with Firith hovering protectively nearby like a half-grown bodyguard and Legolas running in circles around them both. It was comforting to know life would go on, whatever happened and whoever they lost... which reminded him... "Silana?"
She came over to join him. "Yes?"
"When is Storm coming back?" He had expected him to return before now; the strange elf did not seem like the type to take banishment seriously.
She closed her eyes. "He is not coming back, Ada. Not for any length of time, anyway."
What? "But what about..."
"That is over."
He stared at her. Surely she did not mean... Had Coryn just left her? Forever?
She saw his expression. "He never made me any promises; I was the one chasing him, if you remember."
But...
"I could have gone with him," she said. "If he'd asked, I would have... and I would've regretted it." She shrugged, but she was biting her lip. "I guess if I didn't love him enough to leave with him, I should not expect... and he just lost his sister; now is not the time to be falling in love. Please do not be angry, Ada."
Taensirion was discovering that it was awfully hard not to be angry at someone who had broken his daughter's heart. She was about to cry...
"And I'm the one saying it is over, not him. I realized... we belong in different places, him and I. I belong here, and he... I suppose he will have to decide that for himself. He told me he would leave if not for Sky, you know. He never thought he fit in here."
"But what about you?" Taensirion was very much stuck on that point.
"I will be fine. There are plenty of other eligible elves." She shrugged again. "Anyway, I would rather not talk about it."
Taensirion was not ready for this conversation to be done, but he nodded; she clearly needed some space.
"Taen come pway?" inquired Legolas as Taensirion joined him and Lanthirel—Firith and Tathor were on their way home, as the younger of the two was starting to fuss.
"Taen desperately needs a nap," he apologized; he felt drained, even more so after that conversation. "Especially if he is going to be staying at your house tonight."
"You said you would stay with Thranduil?" Lanthirel repeated. "Taensirion..."
"I know," he sighed. "But someone has to do it."
She winced. "You are going to make yourself ill."
"Oropher did worse and got away with it," he pointed out. "I will be all right after I sleep for a while."
"Hmm," she said, not convinced.
He started to turn for the bedroom, but paused. "...Did you know Coryn was not coming back?"
Her eyes went to the door Silana had just walked out of. "I am not surprised."
. . . . . .
"Well, King Thranduil," Galion said when he returned from washing the dishes after dinner, "would you like to take a walk?" There was no response from the lump of blankets, and the butler was thankful he could see them rising and falling. "Come on, it'll help you think about something else for a while." Which was what the king needed most, he thought to himself as he coaxed Thranduil into sitting up and then following him outside. "Isn't it a nice day?"
Thranduil didn't answer; from the haunted look in his eyes, one might have thought he was walking through a battlefield—which, in a sense, Galion supposed he was.
"I'm not sure Legolas believed me when I said Tathor will be as big as him in a few years," Galion remarked, deciding to keep talking even if Thranduil wasn't up for carrying on a conversation. "He's such a sweet child... Did I mention he keeps getting into the cookies? I told him he'll have to help me clean if he does it again."
Thranduil was staring off into the distance as they walked, and Galion couldn't tell if he was listening.
"But then he did his 'But Gawwion, of couwse I hewp you!' routine and I may have given in and let him have another cookie... he was just too cute..." He wasn't sure, but he thought he might have seen the corner of Thranduil's mouth twitch upward just a bit. "And the other day, he was hanging by his hands by that little tiny ledge at the top of the doorway; I haven't a clue how he got up there." The hint of a smile, if it was ever really there, was gone now. "The trees really are so pretty today," he repeated, getting desperate. "Won't you look?"
Thranduil kept his eyes firmly on the ground, and Galion realized the king was crying again as he shook his head. Why...?
Oh... Oh, the color, that vivid green... Galion felt awful, but he improvised quickly. "What about these flowers, then?" He nudged Thranduil over to a bush covered in fluffy clusters of white flowers; surely white was a harmless enough color.
Thranduil took one look at the blossoms and clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob.
Galion didn't know what memory that could have brought back, but he searched desperately for a way to make things better. "What about the, ah..." Don't say "sky"! "...birds? Legolas was trying to get them to come sit in his hand yesterday; it was the cutest thing ever, although he never quite got one, but I think he might try again, I'll tell you if he does so you can see..." He realized he was rambling and shut his mouth.
"I am going inside," Thranduil whispered, turning around to do so.
"No, wait..." Galion caught Thranduil's arm, which was promptly jerked out of his grasp. "I don't have to talk. Come on, you need the exercise and the fresh air."
Thranduil shook his head as he backed away, and tears were streaming down his face. "Everything reminds me of her..." He spun around and made for the house.
At least, Galion thought, this had been one of the longer walks they'd managed before Thranduil had a breakdown. But the pain in the king's eyes... would Galion ever again see the bright-eyed elf he'd grown to care for immensely over the last two millennia?
. . . . . .
Taensirion was still yawning as he returned to the king's house that evening, an equally sleepy elfling riding on his shoulders; the difference, of course, was that one of them would be in his bed shortly, while the other would be sleeping on the floor, assuming his charge slept at all. Unfortunately, there was no way Taensirion was going to let Galion stay with Thranduil anytime soon, and to leave the king alone all night was far too dangerous right now—perhaps in another six months, but not yet.
The bedroom door was open this time, and Taensirion took Legolas in, setting the elfling down on the bed; the little prince immediately crawled into his father's arms, and Thranduil squeezed him tightly. "Did you have fun?" the king asked, managing to at least feign some enthusiasm.
"I haded fun," Legolas confirmed. "I pwayed wif Wanfirel and Siwana. Taen sweeped wots."
As if on cue, Taensirion gave a huge yawn. "Taen was tired," he agreed.
Even Thranduil raised an eyebrow.
"Well, Legolas, I think it is time for bed," Galion announced, lifting the elfling. "Taen and I will tuck you in, okay?"
"No, let me," Thranduil offered unexpectedly, getting up to take Legolas from Galion. "Maybe I will tell you a story, hmm?" he told his son.
"Not sweepy," Legolas protested, but he was rubbing his eyes. Taensirion sympathized entirely.
"Thank Eru for that child," Galion murmured, turning to Taensirion as the king and prince left the room. "Now, what are we going to do with you?"
Taensirion realized he was being talked to. "Sorry, what?"
Galion tapped a finger against his lips. "You have to work tomorrow, right?"
"Of course," Taensirion sighed. It was not going to be fun, even if he somehow avoided his usual awful mood from sleep deprivation.
"Right." He considered the Sindar. "Not to be rude, but that's an awful idea. Go home."
"I am not going to let you—" Taensirion tried to protest as he was shooed out into the living room (Galion, being Thranduil's butler, was highly skilled at shooing).
"I'll find someone else to stay with him," the butler told him. "Maybe Felrion?"
"I think I could work that into my schedule," said an unexpected voice.
They both blinked at the healer leaning on the windowsill. Where had he come from?
The mystery was solved when Galion opened the door to let Felrion and Kilvara in, as well as the culprit. "Do not even think about arguing," Lanthirel said to Taensirion.
"Most certainly not," he replied, greatly relieved to realize he would get to sleep tonight after all.
Galion, meanwhile, was giving the healer and his wife every bit of advice he could think of. "...and make sure you ask if he feels cold if he seems dazed at all—"
Felrion was patting his hands in the air, trying to get the butler to slow down. "Galion, you know I've done this many more times than you have."
Galion took a deep breath. "Right, of course... but you'll come get me if anything happens, won't you?"
"And me," Taensirion added quietly.
Felrion glanced toward the Sindar for half a second before nodding at Galion. "Of course."
"Both of us?" Taensirion pressed, an edge to his tone.
Lanthirel and Kilvara exchanged glances.
But Felrion took a deep breath and said, "Yes, both of you, of course. You were the one who kept him alive early on, after all."
Taensirion deflated a little. "Oh... thank you."
"Anytime. And, ah..." Felrion ran a hand over his face. "I've been thinking, and Sky... Sky was right when she said this whole thing was just... so ridiculous, so in honor of her, and because I'm so tired of fighting... I'm sorry for what I did. You don't know how much I wish I could take it back. Really." He held out his hand.
It took Taensirion a moment to recover from his shock, but then he stepped forward to shake Felrion's hand. "And I am sorry I refused to forgive you for so long. Friends?"
"Friends."
"At least one good thing came out of all this," Kilvara murmured to Lanthirel.
Their little disagreement lasted for 19 chapters.