To Breathe Part Four

Along Garden Paths

Author- Arisma

Disclaimer- The main character and setting herein are loosely based on the works of the marvelously talented JRR Tolkien. I don't own Legolas (*sob*) though I am borrowing him. When I am done I promise to put him back with as little damage as possible, and I promise also to use a clean cloth to remove the drool he'll undoubtedly accumulate in the process.

Rating- R (cause I know it will eventually be smutty... yay smut!)

Feedback- Feedback equals new chapters, so please press the review button.

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He walked carefully, making sure not to step on the trailing edges of his father's cloak. He faced the elder Elf's back, noting the determined set of the shoulders, the firm grasp of the hands behind it. With a sigh he continued walking, waiting on edge, for what his father would say.

Occasionally Thranduil would pause, lean in and carefully caress a flower, breathing in the heady scent of the bloom. Each time Legolas tensed, expecting his father to finally speak but the king seemed oblivious to the presence of his progeny, and even when Legolas cleared his throat he was given no heed.

They passed under a graceful stone archway, ivy dripping in resplendent falls of lush greenery, the lowest leaves brushing both golden heads. As he ducked through, Legolas caught sight of movement ahead of them, a pair of young ladies laughing as they collected flowers from the many bushes along the garden trails.

He smiled, watching them move about, baskets hooked over their elbows. One had hair of pale brown, falling loosely about her shoulders, but thoughts of her left him in a rush when he realized who the other girl was.

The darker girl suddenly noticed the king walking silently through the gardens and turned to tug on her friend's sleeve. With a vexed murmur the other turned to face them, raising her hand to lodge a bleeding finger in her mouth. When she saw the king she paled slightly, her eyes widening, and
both girls dropped into a curtsey.

Thranduil stopped walking, his face breaking into a gentle smile. "Good morning, ladies. I trust the day finds you well?"

"Indeed, sire," replied the first girl, nudging her friend.

Thranduil traced the girl's eyes and saw Legolas meeting them with matching intensity in his cerulean orbs. He heard a small yelp and looked swiftly back to the ladies, one smiling nervously as the other nursed an obviously hurting foot. Before he could say anything, Legolas stepped past him, nodding to the brunette but intent on the smaller blonde standing behind her. "Good morning, Lady Amaya," he said formally, taking her hand in his own and raising it to his lips.

She smiled shyly, her cheeks tinting a delicate pink but her fingers curled around his until he released her hand. "Good morn to you as well, highness," she said, her green eyes sparkling in the dappled light.

A throat cleared and Legolas hastily stepped back, releasing her hand and motioning to his father. "Father, this is the lady Amaya, Erwyddon's sister."

"Yes, Legolas, I am aware of who she is," remarked the king dryly. "I trust your father is well?" he asked her, smiling gently.

"Indeed sire. He speaks often of his desire to visit the palace. Alas, he is so busy he has had little opportunity," she replied, folding her hands carefully in front of her, meeting the king's eyes evenly.

Thranduil nodded sagely. "I understand. Please inform him that should he find the time, I would be most pleased to see him. It has been too long."

"Certainly, my lord," she answered, dropping into another curtsey until Thranduil walked past.

Legolas hesitated a moment, watching as she straightened, meeting his gaze solidly. He opened his mouth to speak but his father called back, "Come, son. Do not tarry." Legolas smiled ruefully and winked at her. After a seconds startlement she grinned in return, briefly popping her tongue out before clasping her friend's hand and walking further into the garden, soon lost but for the giggling that floated back to him.

"Legolas..." his father's tone held an edge of warning and he hastened his steps, his long legs easily eating the distance until he stood by his sire's side.

"Yes, father?" he asked, walking easily now by his father's side.

The elder Elf stopped walking then and turned to face him. Unexpectedly his hand raised and he clasped his son's face gently, his strong fingers cradling the angle of his jaw. Legolas was startled but did not move to free himself, instead submitted to his father's questing gaze.

For a full minute Thranduil studied his son's visage and then he released him, smiling sadly. "There is much of your mother in you," he commented, his tone soft.

Legolas shared the sad smile, unsure what to say. His mother was a subject not normally raised by the king, a painful memory he'd long ago learned to leave be. Again without warning Thranduil chuckled. "Unfortunately there is much of me in you as well," he stated, shaking his head.

"Unfortunately, father?" he queried, moving again to mirror his father's movements.

"I hear you attended the forest circle last eve," the king said, not turning to face the younger Elf.

"I did."

"I'd hoped you'd grown out of that foolishness, but I see I was mistaken." Thranduil sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"It's a long tradition of our people, father. You yourself frequented the circles in your youth, before you married mother," he protested.

"As I said, I see much of myself reborn in you. I was younger than you are now when I married your mother. Have you given no thought to a wife?"

Legolas shrugged, looking carefully away form his father. "I've not met any with whom I would share eternity, no."

"But you've thought of it?" pressed the king, watching his son carefully.

"I've thought of it, father, of course. But I don't feel I'll be ready in the conceivable future," he stated, meeting his father's gaze with little difficulty.

"Maybe so," replied Thranduil. They continued on in silence for a time, coming to a shaded pavilion. With a sigh the king settled into one of the cushioned seats and motioned for his son to take another. "I missed you while you were away."

The words were spoken quietly but Legolas had no doubt that he'd heard them, his eyes widening. Thranduil smiled softly noting his son's reaction. "Come now, Legolas. Did you doubt the weight of your absence? You are my son, my heir. Is it so shocking to hear that I missed you?"

"I...well, yes father. You seemed less than pleased with me yesterday." The younger Elf shrugged his shoulders as he spoke.

Thranduil leaned, resting his hand softly on his son's shoulders. "I am old, Legolas. You were gone so long, and with so little word. Forgive me my failings. You were never a moment from my thoughts."

The younger Elf was startled to see moisture gathering in his sire's eyes and he felt his throat tighten in an unexpected rush of emotion. "I am sorry, father," he said, his voice low.

"Bah!" the king straightened, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, the tears erased before they fell. "You are young and willful and would do it again in a heartbeat." Legolas saw the deep frown on his father's face, and for a moment he feared the strength of his father's anger.

And then the king was smiling, clapping him on the back. "As I said, too much like me." Without thought Legolas chuckled and to his surprise his father joined him, their laughter echoing over the gardens, past troubles forgotten for a moment, for once simply a father and a son, passing time in
the shade.
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A/N-

Kitta-Boo, Daisy Princess, KnowInsight- Thank you very much for your kind notes. Its good to know someone is reading this. I hope you continue to enjoy it.

LKK- I'm not entirely sure just how Amaya will turn out. She might well have some "marysue-ish" qualities to her. I don't really have an issue with that, though. I'll just try to keep her real. But she is a noble-ish elf maid who has lived near a palace for the entirety of her life, so she's not going to be Xena, warrior woman. Hope that doesn't offend anyone.

Hope you all keep reading and enjoy. If I haven't heard from you yet, or even if I have, drop me a line and tell me what you think should happen with this story... readers comments have played a key role in the development of my other story and I expect they will in this one as well. Let me know what you're thinking, it really does count!

And again, much thanks to Kris the Wonder Beta (tm) for taking the time to keep me straight in regards to this story too!

~Arisma~

It is a wise father that knows his own child.

William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "The Merchant of Venice", Act 2 scene 2