Later that day, the people of Mirkwood had gathered to witness the departure of the Rivendell Elves, and Gandalf. Calaen and Legolas stood side by side, silent as shadows. Neither of them had said even one word. There was an unspoken agreement between the two Princes that all that had taken place earlier would remain secret.

Legolas looked across to where Elladan and Elrohir were seated on horses of a deep grey, and he smiled sadly. The twins inclined their heads and returned the smile – equally as unhappy. Just in front of them was Lord Elrond; to the left of him, Gandalf, who was addressing King Thranduil. The Elf was quiet but courteous, nodding at intervals, or shaking his head.

"If you should need me, send a message," Gandalf finished. "Rest assured I will come to you as soon as possible, if circumstances allow it."

"No." Thranduil shook his head and smiled vaguely. "Your work here is over, Mithrandir, and I thank you greatly for all that you have done. You also, Elrond."

"Let us pray that the next time we meet, it will be under circumstances much more pleasant," the Noldor Elf said. He nodded and Calaen and Legolas, then glanced back down at his Sinda friend. "Namarie, Thranduil."

With that, he murmured a soft Elvish word to his steed, and he was off, the rest of the party following close behind. Hooves thudded on the ground, dust rose from the flanks of the parting horses, and a chill breeze blew in the air, fluttering cloaks and hair.

As the Rivendell entourage rode away, the Elves of Mirkwood also began to leave in their respective groups, murmuring quietly. Eventually, it was only Thranduil left, and he turned slowly to face his children. Calaen was staring down at the ground, absently sliding his foot from one direction to the other, whilst Legolas was biting down on his lip, glistening eyes fixed on nothing in particular.

Thranduil sighed, and walked forward to where the two Princes stood. "Come, let us return inside."

"They're gone," said Legolas quietly, reaching out and catching his father's robes. "Ada, they're gone."

"I know." Thranduil knelt down and gently disentangled his son's fingers. The two locked eyes for a moment before the elder pulled the younger close, and straightened up once more.

"Airëlus didn't get a chance to say goodbye," Legolas sighed.

"No, he will. His patrol will be riding to the borders of the forest with Elrond's party, to make sure that they encounter no trouble," Thranduil replied. "Do you think that Airëlus would even let them go if there was no chance for him to say goodbye?"

Legolas smiled, and buried his face in his father's robes. "I didn't want them to go," he whispered.

"I know you didn't, Greenleaf, but they have. And now, it is time for us also to go back inside. It seems pointless to stand out here for the rest of the day," Thranduil said.

"It is not pointless to those who enjoy standing pointlessly outside," Calaen muttered, kicking a stone across the courtyard.

Thranduil turned sharp eyes onto his middle son, but kept calm as he said, "I would expect to hear something like that from a child of Legolas' age, not you. I am taking your brother inside now, but you, by all means, may stand out here if that is what you wish to do."

Calaen watched through narrowed eyes as the Elven-king turned and left. His emerald orbs met Legolas' sapphire ones, for the Elfling was looking over his father's shoulder, an un-readable expression on his face. Ah yes, perfect little Greenleaf, the Prince thought bitterly. It is too bad the rest of Middle Earth is not more like him.

He suddenly blinked, as though waking from a deep sleep. "Jealous of Legolas?" he muttered. "Crazy. What does he have that I don't? Nothing."

Calaen raised his eyes skywards as a sudden wave of despair washed over him. Feeling a rush of jealousy for his little brother was strange enough, but something told him that after all that had taken place over the last few months, there was a lot more to come.

............................................................................................................

It was early in the evening, and the dining hall in the Mirkwood palace was almost silent. King Thranduil sat at the head of the table with Calaen on his right hand side and Legolas on his left. Not being accompanied with Gandalf, Lord Elrond and the twins was strange. The Royal Family had become so accustomed to their presence, that it just did not seem right.

'And there is one other missing,' Thranduil thought bitterly, not for the first time. 'Findilan should be here. But she's not. Elbereth, how I miss her!'

The Elven-king glanced across at Calaen, whose meal was untouched. Staring down at the table, the Prince tried again to stand his knife up, sharp point down. Again, he failed, and it clattered to the oaken table top. So, continuing his game, he picked it up again, and the whole process was repeated.

"Calaen," said Thranduil quietly. "Stop that."

Defiant green eyes were raised, and they held the King's blue gaze, as the knife was deliberately dropped once more. Even as he did it though, Calaen felt a twinge of regret, and he wondered why he had done it that last time. Maybe it was just to see how far he could push Thranduil.

'You know why,' a voice in the back of his head jeered. 'You want Ada's attention, and you're not getting it.'

'Shut up,' he told the voice.

Thranduil sighed inwardly as Calaen leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. He was not going to lose his temper over something as trivial as this, as he had far more important things to think about than his son's phase of insolence. For that was what it was, after all: a phase.

"Legolas, you must eat some more food," the King said at last, looking over at his other child.

The small Prince glanced down at his meal in disdain. "I'm not hungry, Ada."

"You have eaten very little, and if you do not eat, you will not grow up to be a strong warrior," Thranduil replied. That statement always made his son think twice about starving himself. "Please, just a little bit more."

Legolas was silent for a moment, before shaking his head. "I can't eat the meat. It is too hard. See?" To prove his point, he poked the venison with his finger, tapping the underside of the table with his other hand as he did so. A hollow knocking sound was made.

"Nice try, Elfling," Thranduil said, smiling despite his mood. He moved from his seat and went to stand behind the Prince. "It is a pity it did not fool me."

Legolas sighed as the King leaned over him and began cutting the meat. "Ada, I'm not hungry. And your hair is in my eyes. Please, I don't want to eat."

Thranduil smiled briefly and pushed his hair back over his shoulder as he finished cutting his son's food. "Maybe you don't, but I would rather you did not waste away due to lack of nourishment."

"Nourishment?"

"Food." Thranduil lifted Legolas out of the chair, sat on it himself, and pulled the boy down to sit on his lap. He speared a piece of venison onto the fork, and brought it to his son's lips. "Eat this."

It was with great reluctance that Legolas opened his mouth and accepted the food. He glared through narrowed eyes as the next piece of venison was lifted. "There. I've eaten. No more."

"Don't be so petulant," Thranduil sighed.

On the other side of the table, Calaen was watching his father and brother's every move. Legolas had just taken his second bit of food, and as Thranduil softly praised the child, his elder son clenched his fists. The dark haired Prince knew he was far past the age when he could be treated like that, but it wasn't fair that Legolas should have all that affection, whilst he, Calaen, did not.

"If you have just one more piece, that will be enough," Thranduil was now saying. "I promise that you will not have to eat any more."

"Only one more piece?" Legolas asked.

"I made a promise, did I not?" Thranduil tugged gently on the Elfling's braid when there was no reply. "Eat this last piece otherwise I'll make you eat the whole plate."

"The whole plate?" Legolas' eyes were wide as he stared up at his father. "But Ada, it is impossible to eat a plate. My teeth would break!"

Calaen made a scornful noise, and his voice was taunting as he said, "It is a figure of speech, stupid child."

"You are not stupid," Thranduil said swiftly, placing one hand on Legolas' shoulder as the young Prince flinched at the words. "It is not your fault that you do not yet understand some methods of language."

"Oh." Legolas leaned forwards and ate the last piece of venison without further protest. "Finished."

"Good boy. It was not that hard after all, was it?" Thranduil smiled, and lowered the Elfling to the ground. "Now that you have eaten, you can go and get ready for bed. Then-

"It's not time for bed!" Legolas protested.

It will be if you do not let me finish," the King said sharply. "Get ready for bed, and then it is one less thing for you to do later. Besides, it is not as early as you think."

"So, I don't have to go to bed?"

"Not yet."

Legolas nodded and ran from the dining hall, pretending not to hear his father's call of 'stop running'. As soon as the door had swung shut behind the Elfling, Calaen pushed back his chair and was about to get up himself, when Thranduil's voice halted him.

"Stay where you are. I said he could leave, not you."

Disbelief flitted across Calaen's face, and he stared at the older Elf incredulously. "I have finished eating, Ada. I wish to go to my room."

"I sent Legolas away so that we would not be disturbed," Thranduil said, leaning forwards and resting his arms on the tabletop. "I wanted to talk to you earlier, but never got the chance, what with preparing for Elrond's departure."

"Talk about what?"

"I just...I just want to apologise," Thranduil replied. "I fear that I have been very sharp with you today. To be honest, I was worried about Mithrandir and Elrond leaving, and I think that my worry turned into anger at times. At breakfast for example, you were clearly upset, and instead of sending you away, I should have left the others for a while so that we could speak about what was bothering you."

Calaen shook his head. "There is...was nothing bothering me."

"I have been watching you, ion-nin," Thranduil said gently. "You smile no more, and I have not heard your laughter in a long while. And do you think I have not noticed the fact that you spend every minute of the day in your room or down at the archery grounds, alone?"

"I prefer being alone," Calaen said through gritted teeth.

"Before your mother died, you were so happy. It was possible to hold a pleasant conversation with you," Thranduil continued, and his voice was almost pleading. "Now you have changed."

Calaen smiled grimly, and shook his head. "Do you expect it to be otherwise? I have lost my mother, Ada. I am not going to see her again. Is it surprising that I am somewhat different?" Even as he spoke, he felt angry at himself – how could he use Findilan's death as an excuse for his behaviour?

"You are not the only one who is suffering. Maybe this sounds harsh, but you must accept that your mother has gone." Thranduil gazed across the table at his son, and held out a hand. "I know it still hurts. I am not saying it shouldn't. But, your grief will not get any less if you shut yourself away."

"Ada..."

"Airëlus is not here as much as he used to, so this does not apply to him. Legolas, though... He gets sad sometimes, which of course is expected. But it could be a lot worse for him. The only reason it is not, is because he has not withdrawn from those who wish to help."

Calaen's body suddenly tensed, and his fists clenched under the table. There it was again: Legolas. He was sick and tired of hearing 'Legolas this, Legolas that.' This was perfect. Now he was once again being compared to his little brother, a child, an Elfling, a spoilt brat who-

"You had two months which you could have spent with Elladan and Elrohir," Thranduil was saying. "They have the ability to cheer anyone up. Valar, they even made me feel a little better at times. Why did you-?"

"I did not know that grieving for a loved one was a sin," Calaen cut in, his voice uncharacteristically cold. "Obviously it must be, for I have seen you doing no such thing. But I am glad that your life is perfect, you are happy and that you have no worries. Now, if you do not mind, I am tired and I wish to go to bed. Goodnight, Ada."

With that, the dark haired Elf jumped up and ran from the room, blinking back tears – of what, was unknown – as he went. Thranduil just sat in stunned silence. He had never heard any of his sons speak so, and had definitely not expected it from Calaen. Shaking himself mentally, the Elven-king also threw back his chair, resisting the temptation to turn and violently sweep everything from the table, as he left the hall.

............................................................................................................

It was with a great sense of satisfaction that Thranduil kicked his chamber door open, and the sound of it slamming back against the wall was more than rewarding. Surprise swiftly descended though, when a startled Elfling jumped up from where he had been sitting on the floor.

"Legolas, what are you doing in here?" Thranduil asked, making sure that he did show any frustration on front of his son.

"I...I wanted to be with you because my room feels too empty. Elladan and Elrohir would normally be in there, but now they're not, and Airëlus isn't here, and I think that Calaen is tired and wants to go to sleep now, so I brought my toys in here." Legolas gestured to his carved soldiers on the floor. "You're not angry, are you, Ada?"

"No. No, of course not." Thranduil shook his head as he sank down onto the large bed, which still felt empty without his wife. "I'm not angry at all. You may stay until it is time for you to sleep."

"Yes." Legolas watched his father for a moment, before picking up one of his soldiers and making it walk across the floor. "Are you going to sleep now?"

"No, just resting for a moment."

"Oh. Are you tired, Ada?"

"A little bit."

"Oh."

Thranduil lay in silence, staring up at the ceiling. He suddenly felt something bumpy under his body though, and he arched his back slightly so as to pull the object out. "Legolas, what is this doing in here?"

"It...fell."

"Oh, I see. And, where did it fall from?" asked the King, concealing a smile.

"My...hand."

Thranduil nodded, and gazed at his son's woollen blanket for a while. It had been made by his wife when their youngest child had not even entered the world. Findilan had named it 'an old piece of nothing' but as soon as newly-born Legolas had touched it, he had fallen in love, and would not be separated.

"Another memory," Thranduil murmured.

"Ada?"

"Nothing. I was talking to myself," replied the King.

"Oh." The Prince was silent for a moment, then he smiled. "Elladan and Elrohir told me that talking to yourself is the first sign of going mad."

Thranduil pushed himself into a sitting position, and stared down at the Elfling, who was still making soldiers march across the floor. "Legolas Greenleaf, are you calling me mad?" No reply, except a quiet giggle. "You are, aren't you?"

Legolas looked up and smiled, shrugging his shoulders. Biting back the first proper laughter since his wife had died, Thranduil dived forwards and grabbed his son around the waist, and lifted him into the air. The child cried out in delight, though it quickly turned into a whimper of despair as the King lay back down on the bed, still holding him high up.

"Ada, put me down!"

"I could keep you like this all night," Thranduil mused, moving one hand around to tightly hold the back of Legolas' tunic. With the other, he rested it casually behind his head. "I am quite content. You do not look comfortable, though."

"I'm not," Legolas growled.

"Ah, good. That's alright, then," Thranduil said. He fell silent, and looked up at the Elfling calmly. "Am I mad?"

"Yes, because you're holding me up in the air like the way that the sun and the moon and the stars hang in the sky!" Legolas retorted, kicking his feet.

Thranduil shook his head, and stretched his arm even higher. "Wrong answer, Greenleaf. Am I mad?"

"No," said Legolas resentfully.

"Thank you." With that, Thranduil moved his arm across to the other side of the bed, and released his hold on his son's tunic. The boy fell – not a particularly long way – and hit the soft surface with a muffled thump.

"Ada," he breathed, rubbing his nose. "That was not nice." His face shone though, and his eyes sparkled.

'Anything to see you happy,' Thranduil thought. 'Little do you know it, but your smile and the sound of your laugher helps the pain. If only I could elicit the same responses from your brother.'

"One day when I am as strong as you, I will hold you up in the air," Legolas continued. "I'll never let you down, Ada. You'll be stuck."

"I doubt that," Thranduil smiled. He paused, and glanced down at Legolas' blanket. "I know why you brought this in here, and the answer to your unasked question, is yes. You may sleep in here tonight."

"Really?"

"I said so, did I not?"

Legolas nodded, and slipped under Thranduil's arm, resting his head against the Elven-king's chest. "Ada, I don't think that you look like a mad-Elf, anyway. I think that someone who was mad would have...grey hair, and a long grey beard, and they would be very old."

"Do you know who you have just described?" asked Thranduil. "Mithrandir!"

"Oh. Ada!" Legolas stared up at his father accusingly. "The next time I see Mithrandir, I will tell him that you said he is mad."

"I said no such thing, you are twisting my words," Thranduil replied incredulously. "That is a lie, and you know it full well, Legolas."

"Mithrandir doesn't need to be told that," the child said slyly. "When he finds out you called him mad, he might...turn you into a firework, and send you off into the sky. That would be funny."

"Ai, go to sleep." Thranduil leaned his head back against the pillows, and smiled inwardly as the small boy fell silent. A curtain of hair fell forwards into Legolas' eyes, and as he reached out a hand to brush it away, so did his father.

Their fingers met, and the older Elf folded his hand around his son's smaller one. "Sleep, Greenleaf."

"Don't you want to get changed?" Legolas murmured.

Thranduil merely shook his head. In truth, he was reluctant to break the contact he had with the Elfling. After all, out of his three children, Legolas was the only one who was still young enough to be this affectionate. Airëlus had grown up a long, long time ago, and Calaen...

'Is changing,' the King thought sadly. 'He has already changed, and whatever I say only seems to make matters worse. I wonder if my talk with him earlier did more damage than good.'

............................................................................................................

Calaen straightened up from where he had been watching through the keyhole of the door to his father's chambers. He had seen the play between Thranduil and Legolas, had seen the way that the King had looked so tenderly and lovingly upon his youngest child. That could all change.

"Alright, Ada," Calaen murmured, as he moved silently down the corridor. "Do you really want me to be more like Legolas? We'll see about that. I wonder how you feel once that little brat also 'changes'. But you will get what you originally wished for. I will stop being so withdrawn and reclusive. Yes, you will get what you wished for...and more."

............................................................................................................

Coolio02: Yeah, it is really sad! I get sad writing it!

Lombadia Greenleaf: Yay, you didn't forget James! A lot of people do. Poor deprived James!

Galadriel 1010: Yeah, that would be good for him. I'll phone around, see if the Middle Earth psychiatrist (God, I hate spelling that word!) is free!

Halimanya: Yeah, I expect they'll be popping up again!

Kel: Don't worry, there will be more of the twins at some point!

Kathysidle: Yeah, totally. Poor Legolas!

Legolas-gurl88: I hate it when computers are slow, so I sympathise with you! I'll send you an e-mail later anyway, to say hi and everything. Well, knowing me, I'll say more than hi, and I'll be rambling on for ages! Anyway, hope your marching practice went ok!

Well, that was quite evil! He hasn't suddenly become evil though, so don't worry about the quickness of it all. There's still confusion and helplessness to come for him, and no doubt a lot of guilt. Anyway, not a lot to say. Oh, yes I do. I dyed my hair blonde! And I got locked out of my house earlier for an hour in the pouring rain with only a dog and a cat for company. Poor me!