I have had many requests for a sequel so here is the next chapter.

His Majesty, King Thranduil, paced the floor of his bedroom worriedly. His son was due home soon but that wasn't the problem, not exactly. He was worried about Legolas because there was something seriously wrong and he didn't know what. In fact, that was the real reason he had sent his son with a message to Elrond. He knew that Lord Elrond was the greatest healer in Arda and particularly that his expertise wasn't limited to physical health. Thranduil's duty as king had kept him very distracted over the years, but every now and then some part of his mind had had realized that Legolas was not well. Oh he did his duties, and he trained hard and well in everything, but there was something dead about him. Only the magical bond that tied father to son had kept him convinced that whatever the problem was, it was completely Legolas's, not the foul sorcery of the former resident of Dol Guldor.

Before he could wear a hole in the floor, his sharp ears caught an unfamiliar sound. Someone was laughing. It was a friendly laugh, though, a joke shared with a friend. No one laughed in Mirkwood these days. Once upon a time it had been common in Eryn Lasgalen, but since the death of Thranduil's beloved wife, that sound had become extinct.

He hurried to the window from whence the sound had originated and saw two figures riding through the gates. Both looked vaguely familiar, but it wasn't until the blond head fell back in laughter that he recognized it…Legolas, looking exactly like his long dead mother. The other figure lifted his own face after a moment from where it had been buried in the horse's mane.

Once again a shock thrilled through him. It was a human, a man who looked exactly like another he had seen almost three thousand years earlier, a man who had been introduced as Isildur, son of Elendil. That was shortly before his terrible argument with the Peredhil about the war against Sauron. That argument had taken centuries to patch and still remained and uneasy truce between them. Now as he pictured again that man, he saw the difference between the ancestor and his descendant. Isildur had always been sober. His father and brother had died in the war, just as Thranduil's father Oropher had. This young man, though sharing the same features, had a face lit up with joy at his companion's laughter.

At that moment, Legolas caught sight of the king staring down. His happiness drained away drained away in an instant and the old mask was once more set in place. It was the most pitiful thing Thranduil had ever witnessed. Wearing his own mask, the father headed downstairs to greet his son.

~+~

Elrond sat in his study, as worried as the king. His son and the prince should be arriving in the center of Mirkwood very soon, if he judged the traveling time correctly. Though Legolas was doing better, his hold on sanity was shaky. The healer felt that the reunion of father and son could destroy what healing he had been able to impart, and he was glad Estel had insisted on going along. The young man was coming along nicely as a healer and had taken a liking to Legolas. Elrond did not have the strong gift of foresight like Galadriel, but he had a strong hunch that the friendship of the two would be very important to Middle Earth, though he had no idea why.

He thought back on what little information he had gotten out of Legolas. Something about, 'Father says I mustn't cry.' I wonder when that was. He thought hard on exactly how the words had been said; there was something…He sounded like a child, like he was barely out of infancy when he spoke. It must have been write around the time his mother died. Well, I shall just have to see how the situation turns out. He said a quick prayer to Iluvatar and then turned his mind to the work that needed his attention.

~+~

Aragorn's laughter sounded harshly loud to his own ears after the prince's laughter cut off abruptly. The man turned to his new friend anxiously. Legolas's eyes were fixed on some point mortal eyes couldn't discern. His face was as composed as at their first meeting. Aragorn winced at the memory.

The two rode the rest of the way to the cave-palace in silence. Aragorn watched from the corner of his eye, as Legolas grew more and more tense. He was almost relieved when they came to a halt because at least something would finally happen.

There was a tall elf in formal robes standing on the stairs waiting for them. Aragorn immediately knew him and looked straight through the neutral mask of the king. Father and son were very much alike, and the man had spent weeks on the process of coaxing life into the Mirkwood prince. That experience in whittling away the son's mask gave him insight into what was behind the father's mask. From many conversations he had initiated, he had drawn a fair portrait of King Thranduil, though much had been conjecture up until this meeting. Now he dismounted and bowed.

"Suilad, Your Majesty, from Lord Elrond. I am Aragorn."

He watched for a reaction and saw the faintest flicker, though he wasn't sure of its cause since it didn't reveal any surprise. He waited to see what the prince would do.

~+~

Legolas dismounted uncomfortably from his horse and bowed to his father. He had been greatly dreading this reunion and fell back on formality. "Suilad, Your Majesty." He straightened and waited for a response.

Thranduil surprised him by saying, "Welcome home, ion nin. It is good to have you back. You also are welcome, Aragorn."

Legolas relaxed slightly and responded, "Thank you, Father. May I have permission to go and clean myself up? And could perhaps Aragorn have the room next to mine?"

Thranduil nodded his permission and Legolas led the way past him.

~+~

Thranduil sighed. There was something troubling Legolas still, and Thranduil seemed to be the trigger. Summoning a servant, he wrote a brief note and asked the elf to deliver it to Aragorn. Then he waited.

Five long minutes later there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" he called.

The door opened and the man walked in, looking tidier than before but still weary.

"Have a seat," the king said. He motioned to a chair opposite his own. This was the informal study where he met with welcome guests. More formal callers had to make do with the uncomfortable official study or the throne room.

He waited for Aragorn to sit down and then handed him a glass of wine. The man tasted, raising an appreciative eyebrow before saying, "What do you need my help with, Your Majesty?"

"Just Thranduil, young man. I know a great deal about you from your foster father, such as that you are Isildur's Heir. That isn't important now, though. I also know that your father has trained you in the healing arts, and that interests me." He paused to sip at his own wine.

Aragorn decided to fill the silence with some of his rough conclusions. "You were wondering about Legolas. He is not at his best just now. I will give you the story in full later, but suffice to say his troubles are mostly in his mind. He believes that he should never experience or express any emotion as a result of a chance remark on your part shortly after your wife's death. Adar and I have been helping him adjust to the abrupt way his barriers came down shortly after his arrival in Imladris."

Thranduil raised his eyebrows. "I see you have also learned the art of diplomacy. I expect to hear the tale in full on the morrow. But for now I see that you are tired. I shall have someone take a tray of food to each of you, since if you are any indication, you are both in need of rest in quietude."

~+~

Taking that for the dismissal it was, Aragorn got to his feet, bowed, and left the room. Though he was indeed tired, he was still fascinated by the elven king in his role as anxious father, which was no act.

Rather than going to his own room, he tapped lightly on Legolas's door. There was no answer, so after debating with himself, he pushed it open. There was a bathing room attached to each bedroom in this section of the palace and that was where Aragorn found Legolas, fast asleep in the cooling water.

Making sure there were no weapons within reach of the prince, he called out, "Legolas? Mellon nin, wake up."

There was as splash and a curse as the elf jerked awake and groped around for something to throw.

"It is I, Aragorn. You have to get out before you freeze or drown or something," the man went on.

He waited for a response and got one—a splash of water in the face from the mischievous elf. Aragorn grinned and shook his head before grabbing a towel, which he held out unctuously. "Your Highness." He said in his fruitiest voice.

He laughed at Legolas's grimace and then went to sit on the balcony while he waited for his friend to dress. He sobered again as he fell into thought, and when Legolas came to sit beside him, he asked seriously, "Why do you act so stiff with your father?"

Legolas was quiet for a long moment and then said, "My father taught me never to show feelings after Naneth died. I have merely followed his example in this." He seemed not to realize where he was or what he was saying. He didn't notice that the window of the room directly beneath was open, was where Thranduil sat thinking about his son.

Aragorn knew though. He had made a habit of noticing such things growing up as he had with the twins as his teachers. Now he wondered what the king's reaction was since he surely heard.

~+~

Thranduil indeed heard, and winced at his son's words. Have I been so cold then? He thought. He listened as the prince rambled on.

"I still remember that day, every detail. Even what clothes I wore. I still remember her face, her eyes closed as no elf's should be. And I remember his words. "Enough of that noise! You have been spoiled by your mother, but I expect you to grow out of such infantile behavior immediately. You shall not cry again. I am thoroughly ashamed of your behavior."

His own words spoken in his son's painfilled voice were like a slap on the face. Now he knew what was wrong with Legolas. It was all his fault. He had been insane with grief that day and had left his son's room as soon as possible to go to his own to cry, never thinking of what effect he had had on the young innocent who grieved also. His heart froze within him with horror and sorrow as Legolas continued.

"I tried for a while after that to get his attention but he was always so busy, so stern. I did my best to do my duties, to earn back his love after having shamed him so but he never smiled at me. I guess I just did as expected, nothing praiseworthy. Eventually I gave up. I did feel anything for centuries, not even physical pain, Aragorn. I turned into my father, a hard cold warrior. And then you came along. I didn't trust you at first, another lesson from him well learned, I suppose. But when you did that in the forest, when you saved me from the arrow, I just broke. No one had ever done such a thing before. Got in the way of a weapon for someone they barely knew, someone they had been rude to. That just shocked me and I went insane. I almost killed your brothers and myself. When you told me that it was good to feel, I didn't really believe you. And it does hurt sometimes, like seeing Adar today, as cold as ever. But there's also good, things like friendship and love. The father's love I received from Lord Elrond that I have been missing all my life. Hannon le, mellon nin."

Thranduil broke down and wept, silently at first, and then louder as he lost control, violent sobs that wracked his body similar to those of his son a few weeks earlier.

~+~

Legolas came out of his reverie. He hadn't meant to say all of what he did, but he had no regrets. Shaking his head, he caught the sound coming from below. His eyes widened and his body shook in shock as he recognized the sound.

Someone was crying, but why? I recognize that voice. Adar! "Adar!" He exclaimed aloud. Did he hear everything? "Oh no!"

He jumped up and swung out over the rail of the balcony, then propelled himself forward so that he landed on the lower balcony. As he had halfway expected, he saw his father, his hands in his face, doubled over in a comfortable armchair just inside the room from the balcony. After shaking himself out of his shock, he rushed inside and knelt beside the king.

"Adar." He whispered. The king didn't hear. "Ada. I'm sorry. I know I was a failure. Please forgive me." He begged marginally louder.

His father lowered one hand from his face—and laid it on Legolas's head. "It was never your fault, Legolas. None of it. I was a horrible father and I never realized it. I should be asking your forgiveness for what I have done to you."

Legolas stared in surprise. "But.."

"I have been selfish, ignoring you, pretending to immerse myself in my work. That day, that horrible day that started all of this, I was too grief stricken to realize what I was doing. That does not excuse me. I ruined your life, I see now. When I was telling you not to cry, I was really trying to convince myself. And I then went and cried, leaving you without the comfort I should have provided. Well, what is done is done. And I own several debts of gratitude to Aragorn."

He got to his feet and pulled Legolas up as well. The prince leaned into his father's embrace and hoped it would never end. It was long overdue.