As a servant stepped forwards to remove his plate, Legolas curled his fingers around his cup, pulling it to the edge of the table. But he did not drink from it. Instead, he gazed silently down into the deep red cordial which was held within. His silver eyes were reflected, glittering eerily as the liquid danced in slow and solemn circles, almost in time, it seemed, with the gentle tune that the minstrels had just struck up.

He had spent the whole evening with a smile fixed on his face as he made conversation with Círhael, who sat on his left side, and the other Elven lords and ladies who had places at the high table. He had made sure that the smile did not slip, for his father sat on his right side; and though he spoke few words, the King's presence there was enough to remind the child of the promise that he had made. Though, he doubted very much that he would easily forget.

And so, whilst Thranduil held a conversation with Lord Celeborn, Legolas was able to relax, calmed by the knowledge that he was no longer under the critical – or so he thought it was – gaze of his father. He took the opportunity to allow the fixed smile to fade. It felt wonderful, but…that confused him. Why did he feel as though a great weight had suddenly been lifted?

'Because my smile isn't real,' he answered himself silently. 'I have been pretending for so long, and it is so hard. I wonder if I will have to do it all night.'

Exhaling deeply, he closed his eyes, hoping to take the solitary time to contemplate, and reflect on all that had happened in the past week. But hardly a second had gone by when he felt someone's gaze resting on him. He snapped his eyes open once more and glanced quickly at his father. But it was not Thranduil – he was still speaking with Celeborn.

"Careful," Círhael murmured, nudging his nephew gently. "If that cordial spills, I fear that you will have to assist in clearing it up. The poor servants are rushed off their feet."

Legolas smiled, and pushed the cup away. "If it had spilled, it would have been your fault also. You nudged me."

"So I did," Círhael agreed. He paused, and glanced at the main floor, where Elves were beginning to rise. "Have you seen what is happening?"

"Yes, the tables are being moved so that we can dance," Legolas replied.

"And will you partake in any of the dancing or singing?"

The Prince made a face, and shook his head violently. "No! I don't dance. I can't. I would only make myself look stupid. And I don't really feel like singing. Not tonight."

"Oh, I understand that," Círhael nodded. "But what will you do if a lovely maiden should ask for your hand?"

"She will have to find someone else," Legolas replied. "And besides, no-one will dance with me. There are no other Elflings here, only grown Elves. I think I am too small. If anyone did want to dance with me, they would have to kneel down so that they could be my height. That would look stupid."

"I cannot argue with that," Círhael laughed.

"Will you dance?" Legolas asked.

The Elf-lord sighed, but nodded all the same. "I may not wish to, but if asked, it would be impolite to refuse. And besides, unlike you, I cannot claim to be too small."

"You could, but it wouldn't work," the Prince replied. He paused, and gazed out at the main floor, scanning the groups of Elves for two familiar dark heads. A vague smile graced his features as he found them. "Uncle, Elladan and Elrohir are over there. Can I go to see them? I haven't spoken to them yet, because they were at the other end of the table."

"Ask your father's permission," Círhael answered.

Suppressing a sigh, Legolas turned in his seat, and rested his hand on the table top. He held it there for a moment, before shifting slightly so that his finger's brushed against the King's robes. Thranduil glanced away from Celeborn and looked down into his son's eyes, delicately arching an eyebrow to silently ask what was wanted of him.

"Sorry to interrupt you," Legolas said, "but may I please leave the table to go and see Elladan and Elrohir?"

Thranduil flicked his gaze over to where the twins stood, and nodded once. "Do not leave this hall."

"I won't," Legolas replied.

That said, the child stood, and left the high table quickly. It was not that he particularly disliked sitting there, he reflected as he made his way across to his friends. It was just that, at great feasts like this one, when there were lots of Elves gathered, he always felt as though hundreds of eyes were fixed upon him. And he hated being watched, especially by so many. Now that he was grieving, it felt horrible, suffocating. He just had to escape.

As the twins came into sight, his face lit up, and he called: "Elladan! Elrohir!"

The two dark haired Elves turned sharply, and as their eyes fell on the Prince coming towards them, they smiled in delight. Neither had seen their young friend for many months – at least, not to speak with – though, both had witnessed the emotional outburst at the burial service that morning, and it had greatly saddened their hearts.

"Legolas, it has been so long!" Elladan exclaimed, as he swung the Elfling into his arms. "And you have grown, pen-neth."

"You are the only one to notice," the Prince replied. "You have not changed at all, either of you."

Elrohir smiled, and rested his hand on his friend's shoulder. "We have missed you. And although it is good to see you once more, it is grievous that we must meet under such unhappy circumstances."

"Yes, it is very unhappy," Legolas replied. He glanced at the high table, and shook his head. "But tonight is for celebration of my Nana's life, not being upset because she has gone away. So we mustn't be sad."

"Then, are you happy?" Elladan asked uncertainly.

Legolas looked again to the high table, and this time he met the steely eyes of his father. He smiled, and nodded. "Yes. I am happy."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Sighing, Thranduil tore his gaze away, and looked back to continue his discussion with Celeborn. But the Lórien Lord had disappeared, and sitting in his place was Elrond. "Oh, it is you," the King said in surprise.

"A fine greeting," the Peredhil said with a soft smile.

"Forgive me. I expected Celeborn, but instead I got you." Thranduil was silent for a moment, but then he shook his head. "No, I am sorry. That sounded even worse. What I meant was that I did not expect you to be there…that is to say, you had not been there previously, and…never mind. I am sure you can make some sense of that."

"Just about," Elrond replied.

"Here, have some wine."

The Imladris Lord took the proffered goblet, but did not drink from it. "Thank you. Thranduil, how are you?"

"What do you…?" The King laughed softly as realisation hit. "Ah, I see. You wish to know how I am coping with my wife's death. Why ask, Elrond? You are a wise Elf, and surely my harsh display this morning did not go un-noticed. That must have told you everything."

"It told me some things," Elrond said. "But not everything."

"No? Well, my behaviour must have appalled you," Thranduil sneered. "So come, tell me your thoughts, why don't you? I greatly desire to hear them. No doubt you now believe me to be unfit as a father, and-

"I am your friend. I want to-

"And Galadriel probably has a few choice words," the Elven-king cut in angrily. "Well, tell me. Tell me everything. Perhaps hearing the truth from a source other than my own mind will be enough to make me realise what it is I have to do to stop the pain that I am causing, and-

"Stop this!"

Thranduil snapped his head around as a firm hand gripped his shoulder through his robes. "Who are you to command me?" he asked softly.

"I am the Queen's brother and your friend," Círhael replied. He sat in Legolas' vacated chair, but did not withdraw his hand. "Elrond did not come here to be snapped at. You treated him unfairly."

"You…you speak the truth." Exhaling deeply, Thranduil turned to the Imladris Lord, and shook his head. "Forgive me. Your intentions were good, and I rejected them."

"Yes, they were meant well, but perhaps tonight was not the best time to offer them," Elrond replied. "I will leave you for the moment, but please remember that I can help you."

As the Peredhil moved away, Thranduil closed his eyes in annoyance. "Círhael, release me. I am only five hundred years your junior, yet you always seek to make me feel like more."

"No, I do not. But if you insist on treating your friends the same way that a bad tempered Elfling would, that is not my fault," the fair haired Elf said, removing his hand. "It is your doing, not mine."

"You know that I regret saying what I did to Elrond. I feel bad enough as it is without you looking at me disapprovingly, and lecturing me," Thranduil sighed. "Please, will you just…just leave the matter?"

Círhael glanced sideways at his brother-in-law, and shook his head slowly. "If that is what you want, then I will say no more except this: he was trying to help. He sought not to make you angry."

"And if I do not wish for help?" Thranduil asked.

"I do not think," Círhael murmured, "that it is a question of whether you wish for help or not. You need help, and I am afraid that that is all there is to be said on the subject."

The Elven-king laughed bitterly, and looked away. He watched instead as, on the other side of the hall, Legolas listened to a joke being told by the twins. A smile was on his face, but Thranduil was not blind to the sadness that lingered in the silver eyes. Sighing deeply, he raised one hand and pushed it through his hair, unconsciously curling his fingers around the golden strands, and pulling hard at them.

'Legolas believes I am unaware that he has been putting on an act all night,' he thought helplessly. 'Having to hide his grief like this must be hurting him so much. And it is all because of me. What father would inflict such pain upon his own child?'

"You are hurting as much as he is," Círhael said softly. "And I know just how much you hate this. But you can overcome it, Thranduil. I have faith in you. I know that you can do it. All you have to do is look deep within yourself, and you will find the strength you seek."

"It sounds easy when you put it like that," the King said. He smiled sadly, and shook his head. "But I do not think that achieving it will be as simple."

"You have the power to change things," Círhael replied.

Thranduil said nothing. He held the other Elf's gaze and forced himself to give a weak smile of agreement. But there were no words. He turned his head once more so that he could watch his son – and at the same time remove himself from the conversation – but when his eyes fell on the twins, Legolas was nowhere to be seen. A sudden nervousness set in, and he silently cursed his lack of attentiveness. He should not have-

"Uncle, you have stolen my chair."

Círhael looked down, and with a smile, lifted his nephew onto his lap. "Forgive me. But come, you may sit with me here, as repayment."

Thranduil let out a soft sigh of relief that he had not known he held. How funny that such a brief absence of his son was enough to set his heart pounding in sudden fear. He put it down to his wife's death. He had already lost Ithilwen, and to have Legolas out of sight even for a few seconds hurt more than he ever could have imagined. He supposed that it was a natural feeling.

"Elladan said that I have grown," the Prince murmured, resting his head against his uncle's shoulder.

"Indeed? Well, he is the only one who has noticed," Círhael replied. He waited for an indignant response, but when nothing happened, he looked down in surprise. "Are you well, pen-neth?"

"Yes. Just tired," Legolas said slowly. "That's why I came back. Elrohir said that I looked like I would fall asleep."

Círhael laughed softly, and got to his feet. "Then, I will take you to bed. We cannot have you falling asleep in front of everyone, can we?"

"No." Legolas glanced at the King, who had turned away, before leaning in close to whisper in his uncle's ear.

The Elf-lord listened, and as he did so, a look of surprise crossed his face. "Of course you can. Why should you need to ask that?"

Muttering something inaudible, the Prince leaned down to gently tug on his father's braid. "Ada, I'm going to bed now. I just wanted to say goodnight."

"Oh, I see. Well, goodnight then," Thranduil replied. As Círhael began to move away, he said: "Legolas, you…you did not disappoint me tonight."

The Elfling smiled, delighted with the comment. "Goodnight, Ada."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I will keep you only for another few minutes, and then you may sleep to your heart's content," Círhael said, as he sat behind the Elfling to brush his hair. "Can you last that long, do you think?"

"Yes."

The Elf-lord spoke not a word, but the expression on his face as he began to gently pull a hairbrush through his nephew's tresses, was troubled. In Legolas' single quiet word, there had been displayed countless different emotions: sadness; fear; confusion; and so much more. No child should ever sound so grief stricken. It really did cut him deep.

And then as he worked, Círhael heard a soft sniff that spoke of tears to come; and saw a small hand snake up to swipe at eyes that he knew would be glistening with silver drops of sadness. Sighing inwardly, he laid down the brush, and with a gentle but firm hand on each shoulder, turned the Prince so that he could look into the despondent face. He had not been wrong about the glistening eyes.

"Ai Legolas," he said softly. "Tell me."

"It's nothing," the Elfling whispered, looking away. "Just tired."

Círhael lifted his nephew's chin so that their eyes met, and as he did so, a tear fell to dampen his fingers. "No, I want to hear the truth. Do not try and fool me with a lie, because I can see through it."

"I don't…I can't…" Legolas closed his eyes and shook his head, silver drops trickling from under his lashes. "Please…"

"Look at me," Círhael said firmly. "Look at me."

The Prince opened his eyes, and reached out with shaking hands to grasp the front of his uncle's robes. "I have to stop," he murmured. "No more pretending. I can't pretend any more. It hurts."

"Pretending? What do you…?" Círhael let out a deep breath as realisation hit. "Pen-neth, you do not have to pretend. You never did."

"Ada wanted me to be happy, so I had to be happy, otherwise he would get mad at me, and I didn't want that," Legolas whispered. "I told him that I wouldn't cry at the feast, and I didn't. I was good, just like he wanted me to be. But all the time, it…I…"

Círhael reached out, and rested a gentle hand on his nephew's cheek. "Carry on, tithen-las. Just take your time."

"All the time I was in the feasting hall, I was so upset, but I had to keep smiling. And tears were always coming into my eyes, but I couldn't let them fall, and I couldn't let Ada see," Legolas pressed on, his voice rising with hysteria. "And it hurt me, it hurt me inside. And it still does, because by pretending, I am lying, and by lying, I am not being respectful to Nana, and I can't do it any more. Please don't make me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just…"

"Come here," Círhael whispered, wrapping both arms around the trembling Prince, and pulling him close. "Hush, hush. Legolas, you-

"Don't make me pretend any more," the Elfling sobbed.

"I will do no such thing. You can shed as many tears as you want to, and I will not even try to stop you," Círhael said gently. "No-one should have hindered your grief, and I-

"Not even Ada?" Legolas sniffed.

"Especially not Ada. There is nothing, nothing wrong with showing your sadness before others. No-one will think any less of you," the Elf-lord replied.

The Prince looked up, and drew the sleeve of his night-tunic across his eyes. "Ada will think less of me, and he is the only one that matters. I wouldn't care if the whole of Mirkwood saw me crying and thought that I was stupid, but Ada…I can't make him disappointed. Not again."

'When I see that Elf, I will…' Círhael let his thoughts trail into nothing. He had to remain calm for Legolas.

Sniffing, the Elfling buried his face in the front of his uncle's robes. "Will you tell Ada about this?"

"I will say nothing if that is your wish, however…" Círhael sighed, and shook his head slightly. "However, I do not think that you have anything to lose by telling him. It might be best that he knows."

"Wouldn't be best," Legolas muttered. "Would be worse. Don't tell him."

"Very well, we will keep this to ourselves," Círhael answered. He turned the child's face up to his, and with a gentle smile, brushed his fingers across the damp cheeks. "Come, let me put you to bed now. It is late, and sleep will do you good."

As he was lowered into the soft bed, Legolas returned the elder Elf's smile with a weak one of his own. "Thank you for…for…well, just for being nice to me, and for understanding. I love you."

"And I love you, pen-neth," Círhael replied. He leaned down, and kissed the Elfling's forehead. "Sleep well."

With one last look at his nephew, the Elf-lord straightened and went over to the door. As he opened it, his green eyes narrowed angrily, for his brother-in-law stood on the other side, apparently with every intention of going into the Prince's room. Círhael, however, shook his head coldly, and stepped into the corridor, pulling the door shut as he did so.

"Is he asleep?" Thranduil asked.

"No, not yet. But do not go in to see him," Círhael replied. "I suggest you either return to the feast – which I assume has not yet finished – or you go to your own rooms."

"I see. And, what has brought about this sudden authority over what I do?" the King questioned.

Círhael laughed bitterly and moved down the corridor, away from Legolas' room. "I have very little authority over what you do or do not do. However, your son has just passed the last few minutes sobbing into my shoulder."

"He…what? But then, surely I should-

"No. Because we both know that at this moment in time, you will only make matters worse," Círhael replied. He paused, and stepped closer to his brother-in-law. "Do you know what causes Legolas' grief?"

Thranduil sighed, lowering his eyes to the ground as he answered softly: "I have a fair idea."

"Do you think it was Ithilwen's death?" the elder Elf asked. "It wasn't. It was you. Do you understand that? You did that to him. He should still be grieving for the loss of his mother, but instead, he cries for the pain inflicted on him by his own father; for the games that are being played with his young mind; for the smile that he had to wear all night just to please you. And he-

"I know that I hurt him," Thranduil cut in, unable to keep the desperation from creeping into his voice. "But do you really think that I mean to? I hate myself for the way that I have been treating him, and if I could change things, I would. But on my own, I cannot. And that is so painful, it really is. I want to make things right, with all of my heart, I do."

Círhael nodded, and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, if I let you by, and you go into Legolas now, what would you say to him?"

"I…I would…he…" Thranduil closed his eyes, and exhaled deeply. "I would just speak from my heart, and…"

"And hope for the best?" Círhael finished coldly. "That is not good enough. And if you want my honest opinion…you should be ashamed of yourself. I know you are hurting, believe me, I know. But that is not enough to forgive what you have done to your child."

Thranduil just stared at his brother-in-law, lost for words. He had not been spoken to like that since he had been a Prince of Greenwood himself. And now that he was the King of Mirkwood, here he was being treated like and made to feel like a child once more. But the worst thing of all was that he knew the words were true, and that he deserved them.

"I love you, both as a friend and as a brother," Círhael said in a low voice. "But Valar help me, Thranduil, I have never wanted to strike someone more than I do at this moment. I suggest you leave now, to save yourself from getting hurt, and to save me from doing something which I will hater regret. Just go."

The Elven-king looked up, his eyes flashing with barely concealed anger. At any other time, with any other individual, he would have fought back with his own words, even with his fists, if it should come to that. But at this point, and with this Elf, he knew that he could not win. There was no sense even trying to battle against his brother-in-law, for he knew that the fury of Círhael was too much. So without another word, Thranduil spun on his heel and walked away. He would not return to the feast. He would retreat to his private rooms, where he could be alone with his pain.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Lombadia Greenleaf: Nope, no brothers/sisters in this one. I don't really know why. I think it was something to do with the fact that I had two brothers in the last story that I wrote, and I didn't want it to be repetitive or anything. In the play, my character is called Carland. She's part of a really bad theatre company from London, and they've come down to Cornwall to put on a play. But it's so hard, playing a bad actor! I'm not saying that because I think I'm amazing or anything, but because you just have to totally forget all that you've learnt about status and blocking and subtext and stuff like that!

Elven Kitten: Oops. I don't mean to make people cry, honest!

Utsuri: Hehe! I'm glad you feel bad for him, though, because it's not his fault that he's doing this. And your questions will be answered in…well, at some point in the near future!

Irish Anor: Hehe, yes, cast parties are a lot of fun!

Kelsey Estel: Did I mention how old Legolas is? I forget. Brain like a sieve, me! Yes, Thranduil is frustrating quite a lot of people, but at the same time, he's getting a lot of sympathy from nearly everyone!

Cute Little Legolas: Glad you enjoy!

Lilan: Yes, it is very difficult for both of them to deal with, for exactly the reasons that you said. I'm glad that you like the story, though!

Flamesofthemoon: Thanks for the review!

PHE: Sorry for not writing your whole name, it just saves time this way! Poor you, being grounded. Hope you get let off soon!

JediGollum: No, not in this one. I started to write a story about that, but I got about ten chapters done, and then I got serious writer's block, so I put it aside for a while and started on this instead. I don't think I've told you about this one. It's a fairly new idea.

Rutu: Nope, no brothers in this! I've spent about a year writing him with brothers, and although I loved it, I thought that I should make him an only child in this. Mostly because it would be easier for the storyline; and I wouldn't make the mistake of repeating anything that I did with Calaen and Airëlus.

Coolio02: Yep, pretty much everyone else has said the same thing about Thranduil!

Pirates of the carr: Oops. I keep on making people cry. It's not a good habit to get into!

Kel: Yep, the twins are definitely gonna be around for a little bit!

Legolas-gurl88: Sorry about not replying to your e-mail sooner, but I just sent you one back. Yay, pictures! I'd love to see some!

Elf771: Yeah, I think that it is, but I'm not particularly great at Sindarin. Actually, I'm awful! I only know the basics!

Haldir's Heart and Soul: Yeah, it was definitely very wrong of him. He knows that, and its really cutting him up. Poor guy.

SivanShemesh: Glad you like!

This was meant to be up last night, but 'Supersize Me' was on, and as a McDonald's employee, I thought it would be beneficial to watch. You see, I'm looking for an excuse to quit my job, and that seemed like the perfect solution! So, sorry about the delay in posting, but it's up now.

Next chapter will be up on…not tomorrow, that's Trevithick Day, not Sunday, I'm going to Exeter, so…yeah, Monday. It's a Bank Holiday then, so that'll give me time to type it up.

See you all soon,

Misto

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