Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. All of them belong to the
Tolkein Estate.
Author's Note: This a fluff piece. I wrote to show me disbelief in the Thranduil abusing Legolas- theory. Thranduil's POV. In this story Legolas would be like a fourteen year-old human boy. What that is in elf years I don't know. PLEASE REVIEW but be gentle this is my first LOTR fic.
A Father's Love
I watch him stand before the mirror in his chamber. Sunlight splays in from the open doors that lead to the balcony. It's rays dance across his gold capped head and shine on his hair, a perfect mixture of his mother's and mine. His eyes sparkle, an astounding blue color they are, lighter than the water but darker than the sky. The color of those abyss like pools is incomprehensible. I look at the points of his alert ears. I'm astonished that he hasn't sensed my presence or heard me by now. He may actually be allowing me to watch him with his full knowledge, but it seems quite unlike him. Legolas is a shy soul that tends to dislike being watched by anyone, even his own Ada. He has been quiet and distant since his mother died a few short years ago. He doesn't realize it but he is much like her in his ways and looks.
Slowly he braids the pieces of hair right above his ears in the traditional style of our people. His long slender fingers work calmly at this intricate task. He pulls a shimmering blue silken shirt over his head gently so as not to mess up his hair. Quickly he fastens the silver thread closures (They're similar to Chinese frog closures). He smoothes the front of his silver leggings with his long hands. Finally, He places a delicately woven silver circlet on his head and smiles slowly. This action displays a mouth full of teeth the color of the snows of the Misty Mountains. He bears his mother's lips, a pale pink color like the blushing roses of early spring. It has oft been stated that he has my skin, nearly golden in it's color. Seemingly it glows in a way reminiscent of the Eldar.
He has a warrior's frame, like my father's and my own. His hands carry the calluses all archers form over time, and he has the legs of a runner. He stands there as the very example of elven ethereal resplendence. He is Legolas Thranduillion, Crown Prince of the Elven realm of Mirkwood. However, more importantly he is my son. I feel I should reveal myself now. Yes, I shall make him aware of my presence. Rarely do I feel the need to show affection, but this is one time that I must do so.
I approach him and pull him into an embrace. He smiles as do I as his lighthearted laughter fills the room he says,
" I love you, Ada."
Happily I answer "And I love you, my son."
**************************************************************************** ********** Well, what did you think. I beg for reviews.
Author's Note: This a fluff piece. I wrote to show me disbelief in the Thranduil abusing Legolas- theory. Thranduil's POV. In this story Legolas would be like a fourteen year-old human boy. What that is in elf years I don't know. PLEASE REVIEW but be gentle this is my first LOTR fic.
A Father's Love
I watch him stand before the mirror in his chamber. Sunlight splays in from the open doors that lead to the balcony. It's rays dance across his gold capped head and shine on his hair, a perfect mixture of his mother's and mine. His eyes sparkle, an astounding blue color they are, lighter than the water but darker than the sky. The color of those abyss like pools is incomprehensible. I look at the points of his alert ears. I'm astonished that he hasn't sensed my presence or heard me by now. He may actually be allowing me to watch him with his full knowledge, but it seems quite unlike him. Legolas is a shy soul that tends to dislike being watched by anyone, even his own Ada. He has been quiet and distant since his mother died a few short years ago. He doesn't realize it but he is much like her in his ways and looks.
Slowly he braids the pieces of hair right above his ears in the traditional style of our people. His long slender fingers work calmly at this intricate task. He pulls a shimmering blue silken shirt over his head gently so as not to mess up his hair. Quickly he fastens the silver thread closures (They're similar to Chinese frog closures). He smoothes the front of his silver leggings with his long hands. Finally, He places a delicately woven silver circlet on his head and smiles slowly. This action displays a mouth full of teeth the color of the snows of the Misty Mountains. He bears his mother's lips, a pale pink color like the blushing roses of early spring. It has oft been stated that he has my skin, nearly golden in it's color. Seemingly it glows in a way reminiscent of the Eldar.
He has a warrior's frame, like my father's and my own. His hands carry the calluses all archers form over time, and he has the legs of a runner. He stands there as the very example of elven ethereal resplendence. He is Legolas Thranduillion, Crown Prince of the Elven realm of Mirkwood. However, more importantly he is my son. I feel I should reveal myself now. Yes, I shall make him aware of my presence. Rarely do I feel the need to show affection, but this is one time that I must do so.
I approach him and pull him into an embrace. He smiles as do I as his lighthearted laughter fills the room he says,
" I love you, Ada."
Happily I answer "And I love you, my son."
**************************************************************************** ********** Well, what did you think. I beg for reviews.