Storms, a lord of the rings fanfic

Yet another short story. I do enjoy writing these, and I hope you enjoy reading them!

Disclaimer: Thranduil and Legolas both belong to Tolkien; anyone you don't recognize is mine. The poem found in the context of this story, titled The Laughing Song, was written by William Blake.

~*~

"Ada, may I speak with you a moment, please?"

King Thranduil looked up from the large pile of papers scattered around him on the large desk in his private study. "Not now, Legolas. I am very busy. Perhaps another time?" He didn't even wait to see if his son had left before he went back to work.

One of Thranduil's advisors rushed past the prince, his arms laden down with more papers and maps. "There may be another path around the encampment; we could get scouts in that way."

Legolas watched silently from the doorway for a moment before he turned and left. His father never had much time. He always had some sort of business to attend to, some problem to work out in order for his people to live peacefully. But he never had time for his child (who was no longer a 'child' in elven standards). The prince, though, had become used to this by now. Ever since his mother had died all those hundreds of years ago, the king's responsibilities had doubled in order to accommodate everything that needed to be done in his home. He was not neglected - far from it - he just didn't spend a great amount of time with his father.

The sun was just beginning to set when Legolas entered the stables. He wished he could ride out to Rivendell for a few weeks to visit his friends, but knew that he couldn't just leave on a whim. He sighed, frowning, and leaned against his horse's stall door. The animal nickered in greeting, nudging his master's shoulder and sniffing for treats.

Legolas laughed. "Sorry, boy," he said softly, "I do not have anything for you today."

The horse snorted, shaking his large head. He struck the stall door with his hoof as if saying, Come on, then, let's get going. I'm ready for a ride.

"Not now, Anwar," The elf stroked the mount's silky black neck. Picking up a brush on a stool beside him, he opened the door and walked to his horse's side.

Anwar turned his head to the elf, staring at him with baleful eyes. He wished to get out of this cramped space, not brushed!

Legolas just patted his large shoulder and began to brush. As he moved the brush over the horse's dark coat, his thought drifted back to his father. There hadn't always been this distance between them.

~*~

Lightning flashed outside, followed by a loud clap of thunder. The little prince gasped and quickly pulled the thick blanket over his head. After a moment, he peeked out...just in time for another bolt of lightning. He hid under the blanket again.

I have to be brave, he thought to himself. A big, strong, brave elf prince. He cowered deeper down into the blanket as more thunder rumbled outside. Elf princes are not afraid of storms!

His thoughts did little to calm him and the next clap of thunder sent Legolas right out of the large bed. Quickly grabbing his blanket, he ran from his room and down the cold corridor. He threw the blanket around his body like a cape, pulling the top low over his face.

As the little prince flew down the hall, one of the guards on patrol had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing out loud; it was quite a sight.

After a terrifying three minutes of running, Legolas came to his father's chamber door. He turned the handle and pushed it open, rushing inside. He took no notice of the fire burning in the fireplace and kept running for the bedroom, which was on the other side of the sitting room. Suddenly, a large hand grabbed a handful of the blanket, stopping the prince's mad dash. Legolas stumbled, gasping in surprise.

"Hold on now, my boy," Thranduil laughed as he put the book he had been reading on the table beside his big armchair. He scooped his son into his arms. "What are you doing? Should you not be sleeping?"

Legolas leaned against his father's chest. He jumped as more thunder rumbled through the air. "I can't sleep," the little prince said, his voice muffled by his father's robe. "The storm is loud,"

Thranduil stroked the boy's light hair. "And you are afraid," he finished.

The little prince nodded. "Can I stay with you, ada?"

"Of course you can," The king began to rock his son in his lap, patting the boy's head. He smiled as he said, "This is the worst storm we have had yet this spring,"

Legolas snuggled into his father's arms, feeling very safe and warm. "It is," he agreed. Another, louder, clap of thunder made the elfling jump and try to hide in his blanket, whimpering in fear.

"Shh..." Thranduil soothed, leaning his head against his son's. "There, now. Nothing is going to hurt you,"

Legolas sniffed and wiped at his tired eyes. "Perhaps you should sleep now, little one," his father suggested.

"I do not want to be alone," The prince clutched at the king's robe.

"Very well," Thranduil shifted himself and his son into a more comfortable position.

"Tell me a story?" Legolas asked hesitantly.

The king paused before answering. His wife, Legolas's mother, would tell their son stories whenever he was frightened. But he couldn't tell stories worth a flip. "Would a poem suffice?"

Legolas nodded against his father's chest, sighing contentedly.

"Very well," Thranduil kissed the top of his son's head and put his forehead against the blond hair. After a moment, he began to speak quietly.

"When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy

And the dimpling stream runs laughing by,

When the air does laugh with our merry wit

And the green hill laughs with the noise of it,

When the meadows laugh with lively green

And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,

When Mary and Susan and Emily

With their sweet round mouths sing Ha, Ha, He!

When the painted bird laughs in the shade

Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread,

Come live and be merry and join with me,

To sing the sweet chorus of Ha, Ha, He!"

By the time the king stopped reciting, the little prince in his arms was sound asleep. Thranduil smiled and placed another kiss on the boy's head. Legolas looked comfortable where he was, and though the father was not, he stayed in place so as not to disturb his sleeping baby. They stayed there until the morning sun woke them.

~*~

Legolas was brought back to the present when his horse snorted. He had been brushing the same spot for the past five minutes.

"I'm sorry, my friend," the prince said softly in apology. He left the stall, latching it behind him, and put the brush back down on the stool. "We will go for a ride tomorrow," He patted the animal's neck before he left.

Legolas sighed sadly as he walked into the large garden beside the courtyard. It was quiet at the moment, and empty. Most of the elves that usually wandered the paths were inside, enjoying dinner and time with their families.

The sun was just disappearing over the treetops, bathing the garden in the last golden rays. The prince sat down on the ledge of a large fountain. The water splashed happily beside him As he watched the pool, he was reminded of the poem his father recited to him all that time ago.

"When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy," he said softly, "And the dimpling stream runs laughing by -" Suddenly he was interrupted.

"When the air does laugh with our merry whit, And the green hill laughs with the noise of it,"

"Ada?" Legolas looked up, startled. His father stood behind him, having come from the archway leading inside. "What are you doing? I thought you were busy,"

"I needed a break," Thranduil stepped closer to his son. "You mentioned earlier that you wished to speak with me. What did you need?"

"I've forgotten," The prince looked away, back to the water.

The elder elf grinned. "I remember that night," he said quietly. "You looked like a little bandit, all wrapped in your blanket." He laughed lightly. "I'm surprised you remember that poem. My father told it to me when I was young; it was my favorite."

The younger elf didn't look up. "Legolas?" Thranduil walked to his son's side. He was puzzled when he saw a tear slide down the prince's pale cheek. "Whatever is the matter?"

Legolas shook his head. "It is nothing,"

"Come now," The king sat beside the prince. "It is not nothing if it brings tears. I know from experience." Thranduil wiped the tears from his son's eyes. "What is the matter?"

"You have been busy a good bit," Legolas said truthfully. "I feel cut off from you. Every time I seek your company, your advisors turn me away. Although when I do get close enough to ask you, you are always busy with something of more importance." He turned away again, ashamed at sounding so selfish. "I'm sorry; I should not have said that. It was terribly rude of me."

"No," Thranduil shook his head. "No, I am glad that you told me this. Oh, Legolas," He leaned forward and pulled his son into his arms. "I never realized...How could I have let this happen?"

"It is all right," the prince said, trying to pull away from his father's embrace.

"No, it is not," The elder elf shook his head again. "I promised myself when your mother passed that I would always be there for you since she could not. When I was young, my own mother passed away. My father always had his hands full with something or other. I swore that I would never let that happen, yet it did."

He lowered his face to his hands. "How could I have been so oblivious? When you were younger, you'd come to me for help; as you got older, you seemed to become more attached to your instructors. I never though it was my own doing that turned you from me."

"Ada -"

"I am so sorry I let this happen, my son," Thranduil looked up. His eyes were dry, but he looked close to tears himself. He opened his arms and Legolas willingly leaned into them, welcoming this slight reunion with days long past.

"I've missed you, ada," Legolas murmured against his father's chest.

"And I you," Thranduil pressed his forehead to his son's hair.

A discreet cough from the archway caught both royals' attention. The king released his little boy and looked up at the newcomer. "Yes?"

"My lord," The messenger nodded his head in respect. "Master Beraidêl wishes conference with you concerning the new soldiers."

Thranduil saw Legolas duck his head out of the corner of his eye. "Please tell Master Beraidêl that I am busy at the moment."

"But sir, he says it is important!"

"He always says it is important." The king sighed. "Tell him that I have another matter at hand that must be dealt with first. I can meet with him tomorrow afternoon, if he would like. Please relay that to him, if you will."

"Of course, my lord," The messenger bowed his head again before dashing off to do as he was told.

Legolas looked up, surprised at his father's words. "Shouldn't you hear what he needs?"

"That is not important right now," Thranduil put his hand on his son's shoulder. "You are." He smiled and stood, bringing the other elf to his feet as well. "Come, let us go find a late dinner."

"Thank you, father," Legolas grinned sheepishly.

"You are very welcome, my son," Thranduil pulled the younger elf to his side, draping his arm over the other's shoulder. "Would you like to go riding with me tomorrow morning?"

"I would like that," The prince leaned against his father. The king smiled down at his son, placing a kiss on top of his head.

"When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy..." Legolas began. His father joined him.

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~* Some people complain because roses have thorns. Others give thanks because thorns have roses. *~