Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters and/or places thereof.

Soul Searcher-arbariel: I didn't mean to kill anybody!! Legolas was good all along, his morality caused his masochism. Elrohir, for that matter, is supposed to be near to perfect as a friend. You probably are just like him, in fact I'll bet you are. I have trouble believe that I'm a fantastic writer. As for originals, I'm working on the original right now. That would be funny, if you read it and you were like, "Wow! I already read this!" Wait. . .you already died. . .oh, well. Dead reviewers are not a good thing. More here!!

Reviewer who left the little name box blank: Calm down! Here's the next chapter! Deep, deep breath. . .

Dream Catcher: Um, well, you oughtn't judge Thranduil yet. You haven't heard his thoughts on the matter. And you're welcome, what are friends for? Anyway, you're a much better author than me.

Seanthi: Yes, it is a human story, and cutting is psychological. Don't cut, though. It isn't worth it, and you're better than that.

Analorien: Thank you for your encouraging review and happy post-holiday season.

Koorinean: Are you okay? You didn't pass out or anything, from not breathing, did you? Thanks for the nice review ( and here's another chapter! Yay!

Kate McKenzie: It would be impossible to stop this one!

Skye: Thank you and you're welcome!

Kaimelieanim: This goes for you and your friend: don't cut. It isn't worth it, and you are better than that--don't say you aren't. If you ever need to talk, you can always IM me or e-mail, just don't cut. Thank you for the review, by the way.

Tamara: well, most of it, anyway.

Faer: Thanks! Ah, but Legolas is not judging him on his quality as an Elf; Legolas judges him on his quality as a father. A good person isn't necessarily a good parent.

Soulsearcher: Wow. . .my work is a drug! (haha, get it, because you said you got high? Hah. I know, I have a bad sense of humour) Not all dentists are evil. My great-uncle is a dentist. Which is weird, because my great- aunt is a PhD, so they're both doctors. . .weird. . .

IrishChickie: I'm hoping by "has cut before" you mean you no longer do. If you ever feel like you want to or you need to talk, this may sound strange but, I'm always here. Just, if you want to cut and there's no one about to talk to, you can talk to me.

LegyLuva: Ooh, where are you? Hope you're having fun!

Musicstarlover: Thank you! Thranduil's thoughts are explained a bit more in this chapter.

Thanks everybody, I love hearing from you guys!

*****

As soon as the words were out, Legolas felt both relief and fear. Relief because now he had no more to say, no more guilty admissions to make. He had told the truth, the real truth, and now if that was not taken, too bad, for he would not lie any more. Fear because there was every chance that his father would deny the truth of his words. It did not bother him that he had invited his father to hit him, if he did, Legolas would only know beyond any shadow of doubt, that he was indeed alone of a blood family.

Thranduil took a long time in answering. He seemed far worse off than Legolas, who was standing tall and proud. Thranduil was hunched over, unsure of anything. The son he had always counted on to be reliable, strong, like a pillar that stood through all torrents and weathers, was really a weakling. But was he? Here he stood, his jaw set, with the strength of a thousand men. He still did not raise his hand to the red mark blooming on his cheek.

Guilt shot through Thranduil. What had he done? So desperate was he to prove Legolas's words false that he had assaulted his own son. There was so much pressure that he could not handle it, and he had done something he regretted. . .just like Legolas. He had just wanted to believe that something in his life was constant. It had to be--it just HAD to. Legolas was lying, that was final. This had to be some sick joke.

"Tell me the truth, my son," Thranduil implored.

"Father, I pity you. But I have already done so. I will not lie for you again." Much as he wanted to turn and walk away, much as he wanted to let disgust fill him, Legolas restrained himself. He was better than that.

"That cannot be so!" He was almost whining, almost like a child, and while Legolas understood this pain, he would not bear it. His own pain he had carried, sometimes not well. If his own father could not hold his own, well, Legolas was not about to step in, though it was what the man asked. This was not about cutting anymore, it was about the problem that cried for such a solution: it was about hurt, and what caused that.

"I cannot believe you ask me to do this. I will not bear your soul. Let you think on what you have said, and if it is what you mean say nothing to me. If you do not mean this, you may tell me what indeed you intend." With these words he turned and strode from the room.

Thranduil fell into a chair, nearly losing consciousness. Could it be true? Could he have caused this? Was it he who was destroying his world from the inside out? Tears ran down his cheeks. In anger he swiped at them, but still more came. This could not be him, this weakness! It just was not possible.

*****

"Legolas," Elrohir said, hardly having any words. Legolas met his eyes, smiling grimly, eyes shining brightly. Elrohir found his own vision beginning to blur. The two Elves fell into each other's arms, crying. "He hit you. I'm sorry."

"Do not be."

"I brought this on you, I am no friend."

"All you gave me was courage and my lost pride and dignity. Would you have those back?" Legolas asked. The two only cried harder. For what may have been hours, and may have been minutes, they cried in each other's arms a second time. It was exactly the same as last time, yet could not have been more different.

*****

"What are you going to do now, Legolas?" Elrohir asked, staring out the window at the rising moon.

"I suppose. . .that choice is before me. I may try to mend things with my father, though still my anger with him boils inside my mind. Perhaps I could stay for the good of Mirkwood. I may be a child, but there is much I could do here."

"Why are you so disgusted? Whenever you mention your father, you sound sickened."

"He refuses to believe me. He is afraid of what I tell him." Legolas sighed. "He is no leader, no father, only some paranoid old man. He has begun to make arbitrary arrests in his forest, though I should not call it rightly his. There is nothing I can do, really, but stay and watch things deteriorate."

"Hmm. . ." Elrohir thought on this for a few moments. "Take a job out of Mirkwood. Be your father's messenger or perhaps a soldier."

"No, I have shed my own blood. I will never shed blood else, only that of Orc and great spiders. Elf, Man, and Dwarf shall be safe from my blade and bow," Legolas vowed. Though he said it in a light, lazy voice Elrohir knew this was setting in on his heart.

"A messenger then?" he asked, picking out strands of Legolas's hair and braiding them.

"I have tried that path before, and they say I am too young."

"You have aged a thousand years," Elrohir countered, now braiding three braids together.

"Perhaps, but will they see it?"

"I am sure they will." Legolas felt, for the first time, a slight tug at his scalp. He twisted so he was looking Elrohir in the eye. "Are you braiding my hair?"

"Who do you think I am? Arwen? No, I am not braiding your hair." Elrohir held back his head in false disgust. Legolas sighed to express his doubt, and returned his head to the convenient position it had been in before.

"Just no more than five braids."

"All right, no more than five," Elrohir submitted.

"I knew it."

"I was just joking, Legolas."

"Were not. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! Culprit!"

"I have done nothing," insisted Elrohir indignantly.

"Oh, really? I think I will go look in a mirror. . ." he suggested in a idle tone.

"Oh, fine." Pouting, Elrohir unbraided the gloating Elf's hair. He was glad, in a way, that while Legolas was mature he still knew how to have fun. After all, he was still a child.

*****

Legolas felt the sun's rays on his face as he awoke. A smile remained on his face. He twisted his head once more to stare at Elrohir. "How long have you been up?" Legolas bordered on angry. Elrohir was looking at him and smiling, as though he knew some great joke.

"Not long. I did not want to wake you, you looked so peaceful," Elrohir said sincerely, but still had that smile. Legolas lifted his hand to feel the back of his head, which was still resting on Elrohir's stomach, as it had been when they fell asleep the night before. Braids ran all over his scalp. Elrohir started to laugh. "All right, so you fell asleep first and I got bored!"

Legolas got to his feet and shoved Elrohir off the bed, then headed off to unbraid his hair. He was staring into the mirror, still as a statue except his hands, which moved like lightning. In the mirror he saw Elrohir step into the doorway and lean against the doorframe. "I have another option for you, should you not become a messenger," he announced.

"What is that?" Legolas asked, expecting some joke, not turning his head but meeting Elrohir's eyes in the mirror.

"Come with me when I leave."

"Stop joking," Legolas requested.

"It is no jest," Elrohir insisted. "Rivendell is a lovely place, it is very calm and very safe. No evils can cross the Bruinen, and--"

"And have you asked your Ada?" Legolas asked, whirling around.

"Well, no, but--"

"And have you asked my father?"

"Not yet," Elrohir admitted, "but Legolas--"

"But nothing, Elrohir. They see us as children. Your Ada, should he agree which I doubt he will, is going to ask my father, who will keep me here. I appreciate the thought, but it is folly," Legolas stated.

"Really? Because the last time Ada looked at me I saw his eyes, and they shone with the sort of pride and the sort of longing that told me he accepted me as an adult." Despite Elrohir's words, Legolas started walking away. "You would not even try it? I thought you had learned, Legolas."

Legolas stopped. Surely, he was not so closed as he had been. There was no way he was still so unwilling to accept any answer, as before. "All right. Let us try it, there can be no harm of that."

*****

"Ada," Elrohir said, "Legolas now has to decide where his life is leading him. I suggested that perhaps his life lead him to Rivendell."

Elrond sighed. How could he explain the impossibility of that to Elrohir? "Elrohir, while Legolas is a wonderful person--"

"Elrohir, Ada. I am Elrohir, stop treating me like I am Arwen." Elrohir had wanted to say that for a while.

"Very well. Legolas cannot go to Rivendell, because his father would not let him." Elrond knew what protests were coming, and he held up his hand to stop them. Elrohir was silent. "Thranduil will not allow Legolas to go to Imladris, and there is nothing either of us can do to overcome that."

"How do you know, if you have not even asked yet?" Elrohir asked, verging on anger. Why would his Ada never try anything new, never even consider anything?

"I know because I have asked, Elrohir."

Elrohir had nothing to say, but his mouth hung open in shock. He had found that, recently, he had thought his Ada never did anything, just presumed what would happen if he did act. Had he been so short-sighted?

*****

"Father, I wish to be a messenger for my king," Legolas announced.

Thranduil thought on this. His youngest son, perhaps only wanting to get away from him. The pain he had caused Legolas still rested on his heart. Could he refuse him, let him feel claustrophobic in Mirkwood? Thranduil only wanted to keep his son close, for comfort and stability. But was it right to do such a thing? Could he hurt his son to stop his own hurt? "All right, my son. Good luck."

Legolas could not believe his ears. He was to be a messenger. It would work out, things would be well. "Thank you, Father. Thank you very much."

*****

"Legolas, don't do anything stupid or fun while I'm not here, understand?" Elrohir joked, holding Legolas's hands in his. "That means no fun at all."

"Right, not a single smile," Legolas returned, and the boys laughed. Legolas's hands became heavy in Elrohir's, and his tone changed. "I will miss you."

"It will not be long," Elrohir promised. "Ada promised I would see you again. Though he may have been trying to keep me quiet for a while."

"Probably. You talk so much, I thought my ears would go round!" The boys laughed.

"I suppose. . .namaarie."

"Namaarie," Legolas said with a quick nod. The two embraced one last time.

"Legolas," someone said. The boys turned. They had completely forgotten about Arwen. "Namaarie!" and she, too, hugged Legolas, though she was considerably shorter than he was.

"You are always welcome in Imladris," Elrohir whispered.

"I am a messenger now, Elrohir. Many times I shall be in Imladris."

They finished saying their farewells, and Elrohir left Mirkwood forest. Legolas, tree-loving as he was, jumped from branch to branch, following silently behind the three. Elrohir noticed him, and smiled. Elrond asked why he was smiling, and Elrohir just shook his head. "Happy Elves," Elrohir said cryptically.

And the two laughed one last time, together.

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All right, now there is an epilogue and then it's on to the sequal.