Pretty soon you'll be able to remember him

Lying in the garden singing

Right where he'll always be

The door is always open

This is the place that I loved him

And these are the friends that he had

Long may the mountain ring

To the sound of his laughter

And he goes on and on

In his soft wind I will whisper

In his warm sun I will glisten

'Till we see him once again

In a world without end

Crowded House, She goes on (slightly altered to fit)

All elves go through a period in their lives in which they feel a desperate need to test their own boundaries. Some reach this time earlier in their immortal lives than others, and for some it is over quickly. The rumour was that the Peredhil twins had yet to leave it after near a century and a half of trouble-making…

Perhaps it was the knowledge that, as elven kind, they had an eternity of life before them that drove the elven youth to such extremes. Fear of the great emptiness of time driving them into a reckless search for things to fill it. Regardless of the reason, the prompt for this behaviour is often reaching the age at which their parents saw fit to unleash them upon the world. Luckily elves are resilient creatures, else not many would survive past this tumultuous age.

Legolas decided that he would celebrate his coming of age and release from his Father's care by riding at full speed through the main highways of Dol Guldur. He exited the south of the forest with sixteen wargs, twelve orcs and a Nasgûl on his tail, completely out of arrows. Unable to return north, he rode west with the vain hope of elven aid from Lórien… not having the slightest idea where Lórien might be found.

It was several days later when, exhausted, horse and rider sought sanctuary in the trees of the valley that contained Rivendell, the Last Homely House shadowed in magic by the power of its Lord.

Elladan and Elrohir were riding a patrol around the outer boundaries of the forest when they came across the bedraggled horse and rider.

"Legolas?" Elladan asked, hurrying forward as the dishevelled soldier came into view. "What are you doing here? What happened to you?"

"As you once sought sanctuary in my lands, so I come to you." A wry smile crossed tired features. "It is strange fortune that brings us together in such a way again, don't you think?"

"What terrible event in Mirkwood brings you to us in such a state?" Elrohir demanded, catching up with his brother.

"At least we did not come upon you half in a faint." He continued, as though he hadn't heard the question. His mare stumbled alarmingly, suggesting that perhaps this was not completely true. The twins quickly slipped from their mounts and moved to Legolas' side to help him from the ailing horse. Elrohir stopped short as he came along side the travelling elf.

"Legolas, you have an arrow in you." He spoke, dumbfounded.

"Oh yes… that…" And with that Legolas fell into a dead faint, toppling into Elladan's arms.

He awoke several hours later in a soft bed in a room filled with light. A soft breeze shifted thin curtains in and out of his line of sight. He gasped in awe as he sat up to take in the whole room, elegant carvings running up every pillar and support, tapestries on every flat surface depicting everything from battles to rural scenes.

"Such a room must be unfamiliar to an elf such as yourself, I would think. The halls of Mirkwood have rarely been well decorated." The voice made him jump, and he was immediately on his face and facing the intruder who had been sat by his bedside. "Calm, child. I am no threat to you." Intelligent brown eyes examined him from head to toe from behind long black tresses knotted in a style Legolas had never seen before save on two elves. An Imladrian style, he had no doubt now. "Sit down child, before you break that wound open again." Legolas obeyed, curious. He knew he had shown no signs of pain as he had stood, how did this elf know that standing would stretch the wound?

Lord Elrond - for this is who it was - allowed the woodland elf his own observations and then spoke again. "My sons brought you to me today, exhausted, dehydrated and near starved. My border guards came across an equally faring group of orcs and wargs. Would you like to explain these two things to me, young elf of the woodland realm?"

"Well, my lord. As you know your sons made a short visit to my realm, and being so enraptured by their company I thought I might visit your own fine home."

"And your pursuers?" Elrond could not hide a flicker of humour.

"Ah…"

In borrowed clothes while his were washed and mended, Legolas wandered through the halls seeking a stairway or door that would take him to the outside. Frequent open windows revealed that he was not below the ground and so he took as many downwards stairs as he could find, yet still an exit eluded him. Coming out of a hall onto a wide balcony, Legolas looked down to find half of his searched-for duo. He stumbled for a moment over which name to call, until propriety took over and he was reminded of the rather unfavorable age difference between them.

"My Lord!" He called down, for he was still more than two floors up. It took a moment for Elrohir to spot the speaker, but soon he was grinning up at him.

"You're up! How are you?" He called back up.

"Dreadfully lost." Came the reply. "How do I get out of here?"

"Wait there. I'll come to you."

It was with a whoop that Legolas broke away from Elrohir as they stepped out through the door into the gardens of Imladris. The river, which seeped into the deep valley from every conceivable corner of the plane above, ran through a wide floodplain populated by more species of tree, plant and wildlife than Legolas had seen in one place before in his life. It was not until he dove into the nearest tree - seeking the soothing song of nature that had called him so temptingly from his bed - did Legolas realise what treasure there was in this place, never before heard by the young elf. When the tree whispered a joyous greeting, he nearly found himself back on the ground.

"Dear Oak. Do you speak?" He whispered, clinging to the branch that had halted his fall. A laughter that seemed to speak more to his heart than his ears lit up his face.

"Young one." A hundred thoughts of caring, nurturing…an acorn in the ground.

"Your forest is sorrowed." The darkened pines of Mirkwood, howling in the wind, crying in the night.

"The elves are sundered." The waning of a bright energy, the life of the stars, green life without the sun…

Tears graced Legolas' face, as he truly realised what pain his kin felt whilst staring into the trees, waiting for some call, some acknowledgement. He had not lived in a time when the trees of Mirkwood were kin to the elves, but there were few others who had not. What terrible loss he understood now and how he wished he had learned nothing of it. How could he leave this place with a forest of trees to talk to? What possessed the woodland realm to hold strong and not seek out new lands, new kin-forests?

"My mother, and brother. The forest mourns them."

"Your father stays to comfort Mirkwood." The image of his father walking through the forest every day, touching the bark of every tree they came across. Whispering reassurances as he might to his own son. A young Legolas, not understanding the gesture, not understanding his father's love of a forest silent and forbidding…

"One day, the forest will forgive." The brightness of his father's light seeping from himself and out into the trees, lighting the way. The forest aglow with life, with hope… The joy in his heart at such a sight.

"I have hope for that day."

Dropping out of the tree, he came face to face with the twins and fought not to laugh at the identical looks of bewilderment as he swiped away tears, unable to stop smiling. As he leapt past them across the garden and tumbled to a stop on the sweet soft grass, bursting into an ancient song in Silvan to welcome the forest into a new day, the twins shared a glance.

"Hmm. I take it he's feeling better then?"