Disclaimer: Recognizable characters, places, concepts, and events are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien estate.

Author's Notes: This is a nice long chapter. The few Sindarin phrases in it are translated here. Because I have used mainly Grey Company Elvish (which I hear is a wretched source), some of the phrases may be very poor translations. If anyone knows of a reliable phrase source, please let me know!

Quel du = Good night

Losto mae = Sleep well

Amin mela lle = I love you

Um muindor = evil brother

Naneth/Nana = Mother/Mama, Mommy, Mom

Adar/Ada = Father/Daddy, Dad

FYI: It took Tolkien's Elves between 50 and 100 years to reach maturity.

Also, for the sake of Legolas's adoring fan girls, I have left his hair blond.

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Rated for angst----this is over, for the most part. (Could probably be PG.)

Thank you so much to Dragon-of-the-north, Galadriel Lorien, and Queen of Shadows for reviewing my last chapter. (Queen, the answer to your question is in this chapter!) You may all love my story, but I am loving your reviews! If anyone else has been reading, but hasn't been reviewing, I'd love to hear from you too!

Thank you again for reading! I hope everyone's been enjoying themselves.

---Aranel

aranels@hotmail.com

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Chapter 5~*~Starry Night

"Ai!" Legolas shrieked, "Don't drop me!"

Aldandil cringed, catching his younger brother securely. The elfling's shrieks were one of the few things about Legolas that truly pained him. "No screeching," Aldandil looked his brother in the eye, "Naneth says it sounds as though you're calling for Mandos himself, and we can't have him coming for you!" Lightly he tossed Legolas into the air again, receiving more cries and giggles for his actions.

Over the past few years, Legolas had grown...slowly. Aldandil tipped his brother forward, letting the little elfling's long light blond hair graze the floor. Like almost any young child, Legolas found it exhilarating to be tossed into the air and tipped upside-down...as long as he found himself in his brother's strong hands. Aldandil laughed lightly as he swooped Legolas back up, "Too much of that and your head will swim. We'd better find Naneth; she'll be looking for her little Green-ears."

"My ears aren't green," Legolas lifted his fingers to touch his ears anyway. Aldandil's nickname for him was an old joke now, used lightheartedly by the whole family.

"Oh, they aren't? You're so caked with dirt, I'd swear that by now there should be grass growing on them," Aldandil raised his eyebrows, walking down the hallway with his brother in his arms. How long had he been carrying Legolas around like this? Ever since the healer had first trusted him to hold him. Still, Legolas had learned to walk at least four years ago, and could get along perfectly fine on his own two feet. Not that it made much difference..he was still so small and light. Aldandil looked down at his brother, who was now amusing himself with humming and writing imaginary Tengwar on his shoulder. Aldandil smiled wryly. Legolas was probably spelling something like "um muindor".

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Thilómë lifted her little son out of the bath, wrapping him in a towel. She knew he was nearly weightless, but in her arms the child seemed heavy. Sitting him on her lap, she wiped water out of his ears and face, "All clean now. Much better."

Legolas shivered, snuggling into the folds of his towel. The cool air that dominated the cavernous palace licked at his bare, wet toes.

"Cold now, are we?" Thilómë picked up a long nightshirt and pulled it over her son's head. It worried her that Legolas could sense the cold so easily, but it was only one of many things that concerned her. She swept the thought from her mind, "What are you going to do if you happen across snow, little one?"

"I'll melt it all," Legolas slid from his mother's lap, pulling the nightshirt down around his knees.

"With what?" Thilómë laughed, toweling the elfling's hair. While Aldandil had inherited her own silver strands, Legolas had a head of light blond wisps. And such pale skin! Why, he hadn't darkened a shade since the day he was born. A shade that light couldn't be right. The old familiar worries started seeping in again, topped by the biggest one of all: When would his spirit start to strengthen? Not these little increases here and there, but a good, long rush? Thilómë was glad, so very glad, to have her little son with her, but she wanted to see him grow taller and stronger. He was wonderful, yes, but so small and tired. He slept so much, and it was difficult to get him interested in his food. After a good game of chase, the poor little thing would collapse, exhausted. How many times had she found him sitting in a patch of sunlight, when he should have been running in the grass? And those listless looks he had in the mornings----it seemed to take forever to wake him up. By the time Aldandil had been this age, he was not only bigger, but he had so much more energy! Thilómë remembered chasing the elfling all over the woods and palace, hardly able to coax him to sit on her lap more than a minute. There were numerous "hunts" for orcs and spiders, piles of mud-splattered and grass-stained clothing, early morning greetings which involved being pounced upon, and the worries that Aldandil would get himself hurt, lost, or into some kind of trouble. And here was Legolas...quiet, passive, faint. He was sharp, of course, and enjoyed a good deal of things, but still...

"I don't know," Legolas's nonchalant answer dragged Thilómë from her thoughts, and she noticed his eyes shifting in and out of focus.

"Sleepy now too!" she exclaimed, quickly combing his hair, and then taking his hand, should he happen to drift off to sleep on the way to his room.

Legolas blinked his eyes a few times in an effort to stay awake, "I'm not sleepy, Nana." his protest dwindled into a mumble, and he tripped along beside his mother. Thilómë guided her sleeping child to his bed, and then pulled the richly embroidered quilts over him. "Quel du," she whispered, kissing his forehead, "Amin mela lle."

"Amin mela lle, Nana," a little voice mumbled.

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Legolas blinked, sitting up. Where was he? Hmm, in bed yet again. He really had to figure out how to stop falling asleep in the middle of things.

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"Nana? Ada?" Thilómë and Thranduil were surprised when Legolas wandered into their room. Usually he was so exhausted he slept straight through the night...and right into the morning.

"What are you doing up so late?" Thranduil walked over to his younger son, scooping the elfling up, "We'd better get you back to your bed."

"I want to see the stars, Ada," Legolas settled into his father's arms, pointing towards the window.

Thranduil stepped to the window, glancing out, "Well, there they are. There's Gil-Estel, Eärendil's star. See? He's in his big boat, Vingilot, sailing with the Silmaril. 'Quel du, Legolas', he says, 'Losto mae'." Thranduil smiled at Legolas's amused look and carried him towards the door.

"Ada, I want to see them again! Show me Eärendil!" Legolas strained towards the window again.

Placing a hand on his son's back, Thranduil laughed, "All right." He looked towards Thilómë, who had been watching the two with interest, "Come with us, we'll walk under the stars tonight."

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"Look, Legolas, there is Menelvagor, with his big sword," Aldandil pointed towards a group of stars.

Legolas sat on his mother's lap wrapped in a blanket, "What does he need a sword for up there?"

"Oh, for lots of things," Thranduil ruffled the elfling's hair, "And there is Eärendil. What would you think of riding in a big ship in the sky?"

"Yes!" Legolas exclaimed, imagining Eärendil sailing his ship through the starry depths, "I would go with him!"

Thilómë smiled softly, "But Legolas, after Eärendil left, he could never come back here."

"Oh," Legolas looked up at the star again as he ran his fingers through the grass, "Then I would stay here. I would miss the trees, and the green things." He tried to fight a yawn, but it came anyway. He drifted on, more and more softly, "And you, Nana...and Ada, and Aldandil...and...and..." and he was fast asleep.