Over an hour later, as he listened to prayers being murmured over his mother's body, Legolas could not help but gaze around at the large congregation who had gathered for the Queen's burial service. Never had he seen so many Elves all in one place, just for one thing; but that made him smile more than anything – the great numbers showed just how much Ithilwen had been loved.

Mirkwood Elves stood watching the proceedings, some staring silently, others softly weeping for their loss. Advisors to the King, and warriors of the realm had dropped all pretences of strength, and without shame, allowed their tears to fall. Servants from the palace had even forsaken their various chores, so that they could come and say their final farewells to their beloved Queen.

Opposite the wood-elves stood hosts from Rivendell and Lothlorien who had willingly agreed to make the long and dangerous journey to Mirkwood, to offer their condolences and pay their respects. The young Prince noticed especially Lady Galadriel and the Lords Elrond and Celeborn standing at the side of the dais with the twins and Arwen; and he smiled sadly. On any other occasion, he would have been ecstatic to see them all. Not this time.

'I have never been so sad,' he thought. 'Never in my whole life have I wanted to cry as much as I do now. But I can't. I won't.'

He glanced up at his father who stood beside him, and sighed inwardly. There was no reassuring smile, no comforting hand to his shoulder. But had he expected any? No, not at all. But it still hurt. The fact that Thranduil could just stand there and not even acknowledge his grieving child only intensified Legolas' pain. He closed his eyes, and turned away.

'Why, Ada?' he asked silently. 'What has happened to you? Why have you become so different? Uncle Círhael said that you still love me. I believe him, but why can't you show it?'

Legolas looked to his right where Círhael stood watching the proceedings through eyes that shone with unshed tears. His fists were clenched inside the sleeves of his dark robes, and as he bit down hard on his lower lip, the young Prince realised that he was hurting just as much as anyone else, and that he was another who had to keep up appearances, and show false strength before the people of Mirkwood.

"Uncle…" Legolas whispered, reaching up and slipping his small hand into Círhael's.

The Elf-lord looked down and nodded, smiling gently to try and reassure his nephew that all was well. And as he gazed into the silver eyes, he wondered vaguely what would have happened if Legolas had tried to take Thranduil's hand. Would the King have found comfort in the contact? Would he have pulled away, and shot his child a cold glare? Or would he have even noticed?

As he wondered, nails were suddenly dug deep into the palm of his hand, and he snapped his eyes up in surprise. One glance was enough to explain Legolas' distress: four soldiers had gone forwards to the dais, and were lifting Queen Ithilwen's bier from where it lay on the altar. This was it. She was finally going to be laid to rest.

Legolas shook his head slowly, his eyes filling with hot tears. "Don't…"

"Hush, child," Círhael murmured.

"Don't let them take her," the Prince whispered. "Please don't. I want her to stay. Please…"

"I know, I know. But I cannot, and I will not stop this. We both knew that this would happen," Círhael said softly. "Be strong, pen-neth."

Alerted by the whisperings of his son and brother-in-law, Thranduil turned to glare at them, his eyes flashing. "Stop this, Legolas," he hissed. "I will not have you making a scene."

"But Ada-

"Silence! You are only embarrassing yourself," the Elven-king snapped.

Legolas closed his eyes, but that did not prevent tears falling from under his lashes. He could not do it. He had believed that he would be able to hide his grief just like his father wanted him to, but…he just couldn't. Exhaling shakily, he looked up, and what he saw nearly made him cry out – his mother's bier was before him, so close that if he wanted to, he could reach up and touch her face.

"Namarië, gwathel-nín," Círhael murmured.

"Nana…"

As the soldiers continued their slow journey, Legolas shook his head. No! This couldn't be happening; they couldn't be taking his mother away. He needed her, he loved her. Choking back a sob, he tried to run forwards. To stop the inevitable? Maybe. But Círhael grabbed his hand again, and pulled him back. No, why was he being stopped?

"Let me go!" Legolas cried, trying hard to jerk himself free. "Let me go, I want Nana! Please…"

Aware of the many Elves watching sympathetically, Círhael reached down and lifted his nephew into his arms. He said nothing, not trusting his own voice; and as he stroked the golden hair, trying to offer at least some comfort to the child who sobbed into his shoulder, he could feel the trembling of the small body against his own. The Elfling's grief hurt his very heart, and knowing there was nothing he could do to ease the pain hurt even more.

Thranduil stood beside his brother-in-law, watching the scene through narrowed eyes, his face coldly impassive. But inside, inside he was crying, screaming. He wanted to hold his child; he wanted to be the one to offer comfort. But no, he could not. And why was that? He didn't know. He could not answer his own questions. He just wished that he could go back in time and change things, change everything.

'Legolas, I am so sorry,' he thought helplessly. 'I do not mean any of this. I only hope that you know it.'

"Uncle, I want to…" The Prince closed his eyes tightly, and tangled his hand in the fair hair that lay over Círhael's shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he began again. "I want to go back to the palace. Will you take me back, please?"

"No."

Legolas looked up in surprise – the voice had not been his uncle's. "Ada, please let me-

"No, I did not mean that," Thranduil cut in. "I will take you home."

"Oh." Legolas raised both hands, and swiped quickly at his eyes. "Thank you."

Círhael was still for a moment as he debated with himself. He could not, would not, let the child leave if there was a risk of further pain – unintentional, but pain nonetheless – being caused to him by harsh words or icy glares. He locked his green eyes onto Thranduil's, searching the blue depths for reassurance that his nephew would be safe. What he found there was grief, mixed with fear and hope. That was enough for him. Nodding, he lowered the Prince to the floor, and smiled gently.

"Go with your father, Legolas," he said softly.

Thranduil hesitated a few seconds, before reaching down and taking his son's hand. Then raising his eyes, he inclined his head, and mouthed, "Thank you."

"Hmm." As his brother-in-law turned to leave, Círhael touched a hand to his shoulder, halting him. "Do not let this chance go by," he said seriously.

"I know," Thranduil murmured.

"Ada…"

The King nodded at his son, and as the two left the mourning hall, and other Elves began to move away in solemn groups, Círhael let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, taking the moment to gather his thoughts, and calm himself. He reopened them a second later to find that Lord Elrond had made his way over, and was watching in concerned silence.

"Forgive me," he said with a weak smile. "I was caught up in my thoughts."

"It is to be expected on a day like this," the Rivendell Elf replied. "How are you, mellon-nin?"

"I? Well, I am…trying to cope with my sister's death in the best way that I can. I have accepted that she is no longer amongst us, though that does not lessen the pain," Círhael said slowly. "And if I am honest, matters are not…well…"

Elrond sighed, and touched a hand to his friend's shoulder. "Let us speak of this elsewhere. The gardens, maybe? They will be peaceful."

The two Elf-lords left the hall in silence, both content for the moment to contemplate their thoughts. And as they walked, Elrond could not help but think of his beloved Celebrían who awaited him in the West. Orcs…the gaze of just one of the creatures was poisonous, and everything that they touched, they destroyed. His wife may not have died, but she had still been taken from he and their children, and now the Mirkwood Royals had lost Ithilwen.

'It is a tragedy I would wish on no-one,' he thought grimly.

"Here," Círhael said suddenly, gesturing to a bench under the shade of a beech tree. "Let us sit here and talk."

"Something troubles you," Elrond said slowly.

"Yes, something does." The fair haired Elf was silent for a moment, but then he looked up, and shook his head sadly. "It is my brother-in-law. Ithilwen's death has changed him."

"Changed, you say?" Elrond asked.

"Yes. Surely you saw what took place with him and Legolas," Círhael replied. "He has been that way since Ithilwen left us."

"Grief affects us all in different ways," the Peredhil replied.

Círhael inclined his head, though he did not seem convinced. "That may be so. But he is hurting his son. That poor child is suffering so much, and nothing I say or do can ease his pain."

"Thranduil would never intentionally hurt Legolas," Elrond said quickly.

"I know that, of course I do," Círhael answered. "But do you know what makes matters even worse? It is the fact that Thranduil is aware of what he does; he knows how Legolas is being affected. But he can do nothing about it. He wants to, Valar knows how much he wants to change things. But for some reason which is hidden from my eyes, he cannot. And he hates himself for that."

Elrond watched as a bird hopped around the bench, and shook his head slowly. "Cannot? Where does this 'cannot' come from?"

"Like I said, the reason is hidden from my eyes. And that is why I am telling you this," Círhael replied. "I need your help. Both of us, together, have to help Thranduil. We were his friends before this tragedy, and if his friends cannot bring him back, who can?"

"What of Legolas?" Elrond asked.

"I see in his eyes that he is beginning to doubt his father's love for him," the Mirkwood Elf sighed. "And that does not surprise me. He said to me this morning: 'I have already lost Nana, and I don't want to lose Ada.' He really is hurting."

"You let him go with Thranduil back to the palace," Elrond said. "Why? Did you believe that mistakes would be amended?"

Círhael was silent for a moment, but then he shook his head once. "No, I hoped, and I still do. But it is a slim hope, a very slim hope indeed."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

As Thranduil led his son through the royal corridors, his heart pounded painfully against his chest. He had to say something, anything. The silence that hung in the air was almost deafening, oppressive and heavy. But what could he say? Oh, there was plenty, he knew that, and he also knew what he should say. It was just…speaking the words out loud was apparently not a possible thing.

'I have to apologise,' he thought. 'That is always a hard thing to do. But I know that I am in the wrong, and Legolas needs to be told how sorry I really am. But damn it! Why? Why can I not tell him? Valar, help me understand. Give me strength to-

"Ada…"

Thranduil looked down, and noted with vague surprise that they had reached the door to his son's room. How funny that time had flown so swiftly. But that was what happened when one became caught up in thoughts both desperate and helpless, and was swept away by them. Thoughts had the power of doing that. They were strong, stronger even than whoever might own them, and it was with a vicious cruelty that they used that, dragging their owner into black tunnels of despair, deep pits of fear.

Shaking himself mentally, the Elven-king pushed open the door, and nudged his son forwards. "Go, then."

"Thank you for bringing me back here, Ada," Legolas said softly. "You didn't have to. You could have stayed to talk with Lord Elrond or Lord Celeborn."

"With you sobbing in the background?" Thranduil asked. "I think not. Conversation would have been impossible."

The Prince snapped his eyes up, unable to stop himself from drawing in a sharp breath. It had not been the actual words that had shocked him so – though to claim that they had not contributed would be a lie. Instead, it had been the tone used. Never in his life had he been spoken to like that, and to hear such derision creep into his beloved father's voice was not merely emotionally painful – it physically hurt.

"And that leads on to what I wish to discuss with you," Thranduil continued. He paused, and flicked his wrist at a chair beside his son's desk. "Sit."

"Yes."

The Elven-king was silent for a moment, already cursing himself for what he was about to do. But he pressed on with what he wanted – no, what his confused mind wanted him – to do. "What did I tell you this morning, Legolas?" he asked.

"You told me that I was not allowed to cry for Nana," the Elfling replied slowly. "You said: 'There are expectations of us. Our people look to us for strength, and we will give it to them. So pull yourself together, and stop those tears. You will meet the expectations."

"Insolent child," Thranduil hissed.

"You asked me a question, and I gave you the best answer that I could," Legolas said softly. "If that upset you, I am sorry."

The King hesitated, but then he shook his head. "No, I will not deny that you gave me the best possible answer. However, you have just walked into a trap by doing so."

"I…I don't understand."

"You have just confirmed that you knew exactly what was required of you. You were fully aware of my wishes," Thranduil replied. "But clearly they meant nothing to you, for you ignored them. Was it on purpose? I wonder."

"No!" Legolas cried. "It wasn't on purpose, Ada. Please don't think that it was."

'I don't,' Thranduil replied silently.

"I tried to stop myself from crying. I tried so hard, but the tears just…just came." The Prince jumped down from the chair, and went to stand in front of his father, eyes flashing in desperation. "Please believe that I didn't do it to make you angry. I would never-

"I know," Thranduil cut in. "Just stop, Legolas. Stop."

The child closed his eyes briefly, and exhaled deeply. "I didn't mean to disappoint you."

Nodding once, the elder Elf turned away, and stared unseeingly at the opposite wall. "There is a feast being held tonight to celebrate your mother's life. It will not be a sad occasion like this morning's service. There will be dancing and singing, and much food on the tables."

"I know," Legolas said softly. "But…why?"

"Elaborate," Thranduil sighed.

"You said that it won't be sad, and that there will be dancing and singing. But Nana going away is a very sad thing, so why are we having a feast?" Legolas asked.

"It is a celebration of her life, as I said, not a time for grieving her death," Thranduil replied. "She would have preferred it this way."

"Oh."

The King closed his eyes and dug his nails into the palm of his hand, not noticing even as the skin broke. "But you…you will not be attending. You will stay in here, or in our private rooms."

"You won't let me go!" Legolas gasped.

"You lost control this morning, and I cannot have that happening again," Thranduil said quietly. "Do not argue with me over this. My word is final."

The young Prince was still for a moment, but then he went forwards and grabbed his father's hand. "Please don't…Ada! You're bleeding!"

"What?" Thranduil glanced down, and smiled vaguely at the crimson stain on his pale skin. How funny that he had failed to notice it. "Oh, I see. It is nothing. Worry not for me."

"I will," Legolas snapped, taking the King by the wrist and pulling him over to the bed. "Sit down, so that I can make you better."

Thranduil was too amazed to tell his son just how foolish he was being. "Please, do not fuss. I cannot even feel it" he managed to say eventually. "I have suffered much worse than this in battle, believe me"

"I do. But I don't care," Legolas replied firmly. "You're my Ada, and you're hurt. I don't want to see you hurting. I…I love you too much."

His cheeks flushed a bright pink, the child spun on his heel and ran into the adjoining room without another glance at his father. The King sat in stunned silence, running the words over and over again in his mind. I love you too much. I love you too much. Ai, that hurt. That Legolas could admit such a feeling after the treatment he had been given since Ithilwen's death was astounding. And it only intensified Thranduil's guilt.

'I love you too, ion-nin,' he thought. 'I really do, more than you can know.'

The door opened, jerking him from a reverie that had been far from peaceful; and Legolas re-entered the room, carrying a damp towel in his hands. He went straight over to the bed and sat beside the King, unable to blink away the worry that he knew lingered in his eyes. But as far as he was concerned, his fear was perfectly acceptable. It had only been a week, after all, since his mother had died, so there was nothing wrong at all with wanting to make sure that his father was well.

"There is only water on this towel," he said. "If your hand hurts a lot, I can go to the healers and get some medicine."

"I do not think that will be necessary," Thranduil replied.

"Good. Now, give me your hand," Legolas instructed.

The Elven-king was still for a moment, before shaking his head in a mix of irritation and amazement, and pulling back the sleeve of his robes. "There. Heal away to your heart's content."

"Ada, please don't make fun of me," Legolas sighed, as he dabbed gently at the torn skin. "I only want to help you. I know that this wound isn't serious, and that you've had much worse in battle, but that doesn't make any difference to me. Blood means pain, and I hate to think that you are hurting – even if it is only a little bit. But if you think that what I'm doing is stupid, I will stop. I don't want you to think even worse of me."

As the Elfling moved away, Thranduil reached out and caught his wrist. "No, carry on. You speak the truth: it does sting slightly. And…I do not think that what you are doing is stupid. If you care for someone, concern is natural."

"And if you love someone?" Legolas asked softly.

"Even more so."

The Prince nodded, and continued to gently dab at the wound. "Ada, may I go to the library later? If I am not going to the feast, I will need something to do for the evening, won't I?"

'Ai, that hurt,' Thranduil thought bitterly.

"I haven't got any books to read at the moment, so I can get a new one. Except, it will have to be an easy to read, because I only get difficult ones when there is someone who can help me to understand them, so-

"You have been helpful," the King cut in, nodding towards his hand. "I think it is only fair that you are given some reward for the aid you have offered. I will take back what I said about not allowing you to attend tonight's feast."

"I can go?" Legolas asked in surprise. "Thank you, Ada."

Thranduil nodded once, but said nothing. 'Do not thank me,' he thought. 'I chose the easy way out. If I was a better Elf, I would have taken back my words, added an apology, and not used your help as a cover. But I did. And what does that say about me? I am weak, and I-

"You were worried that I might lose control at the feast, and that's why you didn't want me to go," Legolas said. "I just want you to know that this time I really won't let you down. I will be happy, and I will talk about happy things. I promise, Ada."

"Then I will hold you to that," Thranduil murmured.

Legolas nodded, and glanced down at his father's hand. "There is no more blood. Does it still hurt?"

"No."

"Good."

Silence fell. The two looked away from each other, neither of them failing to notice the sudden awkwardness and discomfort that reigned. Thranduil fiddled absently with the sleeves of his robes, moving the silky material so that it slipped coolly through his fingers, shimmering slightly as it caught the light. Legolas watched from the corner of his eyes as he softly drummed his feet against the side of his wooden desk.

"Must you do that?"

"Sorry." The Prince paused, and nodded at his bed. "Ada, I'm tired. I think I might try and sleep before the feast."

That was nearly enough to make Thranduil laugh. He, the King of Mirkwood, had just been dismissed by a child. And not just any child. His own son! There were very few indeed who were brave enough to even attempt that. Yes, it really was laughable. But he said nothing as he nodded, and got to his feet.

"Goodbye," Legolas said softly.

"Yes. I am sure that Círhael will be along later to prepare you for the feast," Thranduil replied.

"Yes, but…you could…well, you could help me instead," the Elfling muttered, staring at his hands as he waited for an answer.

The Elven-king was silent for a moment, but then he inclined his head briefly, and said: "I could, yes. If I have time, I will. And if not, Círhael will help you to get ready."

As his father left, Legolas laughed softly, bitterly. "You will have time, Ada," he murmured to the empty room. "But you won't give any of it to me. You won't come. I know it."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

MCross: Yeah, I think that a big hug would make them all feel better!

Lombadia Greenleaf: Hehe, sorry about the delay! I toured with a play called 'Headland'. You won't have heard of it because it was written by the director. But it's really good. All about this man who committed suicide. I'm going to a cast party tomorrow, and we're going to be given awards for it. Fun!

Haldir's Heart and Soul: Yep, it's been a while, but hopefully this story makes up for it.

Elven Kitten: Hehe, they all deserve hugs!

Kelsey Estel: Thank you! It's really nice to hear that you like the way I write Thranduil! Yes, he was there when Ithilwen died, but I won't say much more than that, because you'll find out later on in the story.

Utsuri: Hehe. You'll have to wait and see!

SivanShemesh: Oh yes, there's definitely gonna be more of this!

Jedi Gollum: Yeah, the twins will be in it, but probably not as much as they have been in past stories. No, Calaen and Airëlus aren't in this (I think they've both been put through enough!). Legolas is an only child in this one.

Rutu: Yeah, Círhael helps a lot. Yay for nice people like him!

Legolas-gurl88: Yeah, exclamation marks are fun! I think I read your latest chapter of SOM…did I? Or am I just imagining things again. Maybe. It wouldn't surprise me!

Kel, Swasti and Coolio02: Yep, I think we'll be hearing that phrase quite a lot!

Yeah, I know I said that updates would be every three days, but I'm going to a cast party tomorrow with my theatre group, and then I'll be staying with a friend, so I thought that I'd update a day early rather than a day later.

Hope you all enjoy!

Misto

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