Legolas sat in front of the desk, not even noticing as Thranduil paced up and down behind him. The two had just been about to go and look on the bodies of the fallen Elves, but Lord Elrond had met them in the corridor and protested, telling them that it was best to wait until things had been cleared up. Whatever that meant, they did not want to know.

"How do you feel now?" Thranduil asked, pausing in his pacing to put a hand on his son's shoulder.

"No different," Legolas replied. "How do you expect me to feel? Absolutely ecstatic that my brothers are dead?" As soon as he had finished speaking, the Prince bit down on his lip and closed his eyes.

Thranduil felt a moment's anger at the words, but it disappeared almost immediately. "I am sorry. That was a stupid thing to ask you. I should have thought before asking you."

"No, I am sorry for giving you a harsh answer," Legolas said, ending the sentence in a deep sigh. He leant forwards and began playing absentmindedly with a quill on the desk. He twirled it in his fingers, though he kept his attention fixed not on what he was doing, but straight ahead, out of the window.

Thranduil inhaled deeply and moved around to lean against the edge of the desk. He kept his gaze trained on Legolas, watching closely for any sign of emotion. None came. "You are very brave," he said quietly. "Either that, or you are hiding your true feelings again."

The Prince's eyes snapped up as he was jerked out of his reverie. He put the quill down, eyes narrowing slightly as he said, "I am not brave."

"It must be the other one, then," Thranduil said. He reached forwards, and touched a hand to his son's cheek. "Why are you so scared? You showed your grief before, but now, now you show nothing. Why choose now to hold back?"

"I suppose there is no point me telling you that I am doing no such thing," Legolas muttered. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "You are right. I did show my grief earlier, but then I realised that it finalises everything."

"What do you mean?" Thranduil asked softly.

Legolas sighed, and lowered his gaze to the floor. "It seems as though I am living in a dream, and when I wake up, Airëlus will still be here. I know that will not happen, but crying for him makes it all the more real."

"Yes, I know what you mean," Thranduil replied. He paused, and his eyes flickered. "I am sorry, for what I am about to say will sound harsh to you, though that is not my intent. But you do understand that Airëlus is not coming back, don't you? You do understand that no matter how much you try and pretend that none of this is really happening, it is? All of this is real."

"Clearly you do not know what I mean, then," Legolas snapped, eyes blazing. "How can you possibly know if all you do is preach to me about what is real and what is not? I lost my brother not even a day ago. Do you honestly think that I want to be told of the reality of this situation? I know only too well of it!"

Thranduil hissed in frustration as Legolas jumped up and stormed over to the door. "You may have lost your brother, but I lost my son. Two sons, in fact. You at least were able to say goodbye to one of them."

"And you at least did not have to watch the way that Airëlus suffered before he died!" Legolas shouted. He spun swiftly, and grabbing a chair, threw it across the room. It the hall with a loud, but strangely satisfying crash.

The Elven-king moved to the side, out of harms way from the chair that had just been thrown. He glared at Legolas, though his expression softened almost immediately. The frustration in his eyes was not so fast to die down though, nor was the anger and pain that he felt inside. Taking a deep breath, he stepped towards his son, and held out a placating hand.

"I am being selfish," he said softly. "I am sorry."

"Do not apologize to me," Legolas muttered.

Thranduil shook his head slowly. "I never once imagined that we would be put in a position like this. And now that we have come to such a time, all that I want to do is help you. But I cannot. It is my temper and lack of patience that makes matters worse." He smiled, though there was no humour to it. "Your mother always said that they would fail me."

"You do have a short temper, but do you really think there is anything that could make matters worse?" Legolas asked softly. "Ada, when I was in the fire with Airëlus, I thought to myself that it would not matter if I was to die in there. Now though, I am glad that I kept going. And that is because of you."

"How is it that you have grown so much older and wiser in such a short amount of time?" Thranduil asked quietly.

'That must be what death does to you,' Legolas thought bitterly, but he forced himself to smile as he nodded towards the chair he had smashed. "If I had grown older and wiser, I would not have done that."

"Maybe," Thranduil replied.

Legolas sighed as he sat down once more. "It is stupid of me, I know, but I keep expecting Airëlus or Calaen to walk through the door. I just cannot believe that they have gone…either of them."

The Elven-king nodded, and despite his grief, smiled vaguely. "If everything was still the same, Airëlus would be in here, telling me how many Orcs his patrol brought down, and how many spiders had been killed. I would tell you to go elsewhere, because the conversation was serious, and I did not think you old enough to listen."

"But then Airëlus would protest, and would spend at least five minutes telling you that listening to such stories was for my own good, as it would help prepare me for what I will see when I am able to go out and fight," Legolas said quietly. "And then when you finally agreed to let me stay, he would look over at me, and smile."

"I always pretended not to notice that, but I did," Thranduil said. "He loved you so much, Legolas. He would have done anything for you."

"I know." The Prince paused, and his eyes flickered. "What of Calaen? What do you think he would be doing if he was here, and none of this had happened?"

"I…I cannot say," Thranduil sighed. "I knew Airëlus, and I thought that I knew Calaen. Obviously I was wrong. Now I see that whilst doing one thing he would be thinking another, and when saying one thing he would be meaning another."

"I do not think that anyone really knew him," Legolas said sadly.

Silence fell. It was true: who had really known the dark Prince? Had he even known himself? He had known what he wanted, that was sure enough, but was that all there was to it? Thranduil sighed deeply. Part of him hated Calaen for all that he had done, but another part felt immensely sorry for him. There was even a part that still loved him, despite all that he had done.

"Ada?"

"I was just…thinking," Thranduil replied. "Worry not for me."

Legolas looked as though he wanted to question that statement, but was given no chance to do so, for there came a knock on the door. He was silent for a moment, wondering who it was, what they wanted, and whether he actually wanted to know. But then he glanced across at his father, and nodded once.

"Enter," Thranduil called.

The door opened ever so slowly, and it seemed to be a whole age before there was a gap large enough so that the person behind it would be revealed. But when that did indeed happen, the King's eyes widened in surprise, and Legolas jumped up from his seat, absolutely amazed.

"What…how…why are you…?" Thranduil fell silent, and shook his head in wonder.

"I expected you to say something like that," Gandalf remarked, walking into the room and pulling off his soaking wet hat and cloak.

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