Present

Thranduil's eyes were staring off into the distance, his green gaze fixed on things he had not allowed himself to think of in years. Had it been so long ago? Indeed…Legolas was now almost grown. How had time gone by so swiftly? With a start, the Elvenking raised himself from his chair and paced his study. Ruby red light filtered in through the window, reminding him that sunset was near. The day was slipping away into the soft embrace of night.

How many days had slid away since he had last seen her? Too many. He missed her. A wave of sadness rose and threatened to drag him under a swell of emotion. The fair elf ruthlesslessly pushed it to the side. He did not want to dwell on the pain! It reminded him of the harsh words had recently spoken to his son. Thranduil winced even as he thought of it. Valar, he had not meant to sound so cold! Legolas was all he had left. On some level, he knew that he was too protective of his child, but he could not help it.

Of course, he had been protective of Elenlor too. A sound that was half a chuckle, half a groan rose in his throat.

------------------Past

Knives held at the ready, Thranduil circled his opponent, breathing heavily. His eyes darted here and there, watchful for any sudden move. Weariness tugged at his limbs, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He could not afford to have it impair his timing or judgment. One moments' weakness might cost him his life. However, he could not merely push aside months of hard work, with little sleep and the growing worry of the shadow in his kingdom. It was catching up. The fair elf knew it in every move he made. He lunged, but found his blades blocked easily. Falling back, he resumed circling. Sooner or later, he knew that it would become too much. He would not be able to defend himself. The Elvenking sliced again, coming at an angle from the side. He had hoped that the move would take his foe by surprise, but, once again, his weapons were turned aside.

Suddenly, it happened. As the lithe elf stepped backwards, his boot heel caught in a small hole, throwing him off balance. Normally, such a thing would have affected him very little, if at all. Now however, he found his reflexes had been dulled. He was unable to compensate in time and found himself falling rather ungracefully backwards. The fair king was able to land in such a way that he was not winded, but he knew it was not enough. His opponent was too skilled to let such an opportunity slip. He expected to feel a blow at any moment…

Several such moments passed. The Elvenking sighed gustily and slowly pushed himself to his feet. "Elenlor, why did you not attack?"

The Queen of Mirkwood stood before him, looking rather uncomfortable with her very own long knives clutched tightly in her delicate hands. She shrugged helplessly.

The two monarchs had seized an afternoon and fled to their favorite clearing. Several years earlier, Thranduil had ordered a special set of knives made for his wife, and had instructed her in their use as often as time permitted. He knew that he could not be at her side every moment of every day, and found it comforting to know that she was armed and could defend herself if ever the need arose. Unfortunately, time had been at a bare minimum for quite a while. Mirkwood had recently pulled through a rather hard winter, and a new Master of Laketown was not making trade easy. The king sighed again.

It wasn't that Elenlor didn't learn quickly…she did! Incredibly quickly. She was fast, and light on her feet. She could block any stab ever thrown at her. But she would not attack. It frustrated Thranduil to no end. He knew that she did not wish to harm him, even inadverdently, but he could not gauge how well she was learning if she would not demonstrate her skill! Another reason for her hesitance (he suspected, but had no proof) was because she did not think it was entirely necesarry. He could not get her to wear her knives. In fact, the only times he saw the things was when she (reluctantly) brought them out to practice with him.

"Ada!"

Thranduil looked up to see a small elfling scamper through the brush, golden hair flowing behind him as he ran. He threw a challenging look over his shoulder… "You can't catch me, Ada!"

The Elvenking felt his body protest loudly to the abuse he was putting it through. It wanted to sleep…at this moment, he realized with a dry grin, Legolas was probably right. He was more likely to catch a Nazgul out of midair than an exuberant, energetic princeling. Oh well, he thought, such is the price of parenthood. Sheathing his own blades, the fair elf abandoned practice for the day and charged after his son.

0-0-0-0

Elenlor sank to the ground gratefully as she watched her husband and son race around the clearing. The knives rested across her lap, gleaming in the sunlight. Her nose wrinkled slightly as she gazed at them. Oh, they were beautifully made of course, long white handles and elvish runes, wickedly sharp and exquisitely balanced. But she did not see the need. It was not very often that she left the palace anymore, now that there was Legolas to consider. When she did, she was always with Thranduil, and more often than not, two to five guards. She would not mind learning to use the blades so very much…if it did not involve striking out at her husband. She worried that her inexperience with the deadly weapons might bring him to harm, especially when he was as tired as he had been recently.

The lovely elf smiled as she watched her husband lift their son high over his head, much to the blond prince's delight. She could not bear the thought of slipping with one of those knives…she shuddered softly. Though he constantly tried to have her strike out when they sparred, she could never force herself to do it.

He also wished her to wear the blades wherever she went. Elenlor ran a delicate finger along the length of one of the weapons thoughtfully. She knew that he worried for her, but she really did not see the need to protect herself thus. What was going to attack her in the safety of the palace?

The fair queen's musings were interrupted as Legolas raced towards her, giggling madly She swiftly placed the knives to the side and caught him up in her arms, laughing with him. Thranduil plopped himself down at her side, breathing heavily. He reached forward and tweaked a lock of Elenlor's hair, pretending to be surprised when she swatted at him. "I meant to get him, I swear…" with a grin at her skeptical expression, he plucked the blond elfling from her arms and tickled him. Legolas shrieked happily and squirmed out of his father's grasp, swiftly returning to his mother. His blue eyes fastened on the blades she had discarded, and they lit with fascination. One hand was already reaching for them before she trapped it in her own. "No, Legolas." A frown creased her smooth forehead briefly. This was another reason she did not care for the weapons. Legolas was far too interested in them. Every time she brought them out, he wanted to hold them. They were not safe for such an inquisitive elfling.

Elenlor cuddled her sweet son as he calmed down somewhat. They sat for quite awhile, watching the afternoon fade around them.

The Queen of Mirkwood stroked the prince's golden hair as he lay curled in her lap, dozing. She loved his hair. It was thick and grew long. Every morning he demanded that she braid it like the warriors. Like his father's. By nightfall, he had usually collected a store of twigs, leaves, grass, and dirt in the intricate twinings. She didn't mind though.

"We have to return soon, Silme." Thranduil said lazily, admiring the way the sunlight caught in his wife's fair locks. He was reluctant to leave their small refuge, but knew that he could not abandon his court for long. A mischievious grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. Halynder had probably organized search parties by now…

Elenlor nodded, but made no move to rise. She too was not overly eager to return. It was not often these days that she could be alone with her family, and she treasured such times.

"Here," Thranduil gently scooped the slumbering Legolas out of her lap, cradling his small body in strong arms. "I will carry him." The blond prince stirred, yawned, cuddled against his father's bulk and began to snore lightly. The fair Queen smiled gratefully. She loved her son deeply…but had to admit that his growing body was growing more and more difficult for her to carry. Especially when he was asleep. He went all boneless…rather like a cat.

Elenlor scooped her knives up and rose gracefully along with her husband as they began their walk back. A smile teased the corner of her mouth. She wondered what Halynder would say when they returned…

0-0-0-0

The raven haired advisor was waiting for them at the gates, a scowl creasing his forehead. Thranduil could see that he had worked himself up into a fine fit and was prepared to deliver a long lecture. However, the Elvenking had a plan.

The moment his friend opened his mouth, Thranduil held a finger to his lips, shushing him. "Quiet," he said reproachfully, looking down at the still sleeping prince. "He is asleep."

Elenlor's shoulders shook with surppressed laughter as she saw the indignant expression on Halynder's face.

Her husband carefully kept his features blankly innocent, but she could see the mischievious gleam that shone in his green eyes. As they passed the raven haired elf, she heard Halynder grumble under his breath.

"You may have won this time, but I will not forget this. I can deliver a lecture tomorrow morning just as easily as tonight." With a final dour look, he strode away.

Elenlor giggled quietly. "Shame on you, hir nin. Using your own son to avoid trouble."

"I do not know what you are talking about, meleth nin," Thranduil's tone was hurt, but he could not hide a hint of laughter.

0-0-0-0

The Elvenking carefully laid his son on the elfling's bed, tugging off his small shoes. He considered removing Legolas' tunic, but decided against it. He didn't want to wake the blond prince. Thranduil pulled the covers up, tucking the boy in. A smile curled at the corner of his mouth as he looked down at his child. Though he would not have admitted it to anyone save perhaps his wife, he was still in awe of this fair being. The fierce protectiveness that had risen when he had first laid eyes on the elfling had not abated. His equally fierce love had only grown.

The blond elf pushed his son's golden hair away from his face, noting the collection of dirt and grass that had managed to work itself into the intricate braids. Elenlor would sigh about it in the morning.

Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on Legolas' forehead. "Losto mae, ion nin."

There was a whine from beside him, and the next thing he knew, Gwiwileth placed both paws up on the prince's bed, his wet nose snuffling at his young master. Thranduil could almost see worry creasing the hound's hairy forehead.

"He's alright," the Elvenking said, scratching behind the dog's ears. Every time they left without him, Gwiwileth seemed to fear that the prince would come to harm. He could not be dissuaded from examining the elfling upon his return.

Apparently, the mutt came to the same conclusion and hoisted his large body onto the bed, curling at his master's side.

Thranduil shook his head and sighed. "Do not let Elenlor see you there." With a final scratch behind the dog's ears, he rose and departed.

0-0-0-0

The Elvenking entered his chamber just in time to see his wife placing her knives on a high shelf. Hearing him enter, she turned and smiled brilliantly. "There. I think I have finally found somewhere he will not be able to reach."

Thranduil suppressed his groan and sigh with more difficulty than usual. He knew whom Elenlor spoke of, and did not believe for one instant that there was anywhere their elfling could not reach. Legolas possessed a drive to get what he wished, and it took both parents to keep the blond prince out of things that could be potentially harmful. Such as Elenlor's knives. For some unaccountable reaon, Legolas had become increasingly enamored of the weapons and strove to attain them constantly. Not just any knives either. Only Elenlor's. He would pass Thranduil's weapons without a glance. Therefore, whenever she was not using her blades, the Queen of Mirkwood struggled to find someplace where she could leave them and be assured that the prince would not get his hands on the razor sharp edges.

The Elvenking had pointed out on more than one occasion that if she simply wore them, as he had asked her to many times, Legolas would never be able to lay so much as a finger on their reflective surfaces without her knowledge.

But she would not wear them. It made him want to tear his hair out in large, blond, chunks. It was more frustrating than listening to Halynder talk about his son. He only wanted to be sure that she was safe when he was not with her. Was that too much to ask?

Elenlor noticed her husband's scowl and grinned halfheartedly. "You do not think so?"

"My dear," Thranduil sighed, "I believe that if you set you weapons on the peak of Mt. Doom, our son would find some way to acquire them." His green eyes gazed at her fondly. She was so precious to him. "If you were to wear them, you would always know where they were…"

The queen tossed her blond hair impatiently. "We've gone over this before. There is no need for me to wear them. I am safe, here in our home. I do not leave unless you are with me anymore." Crossing the room, she put her arms around his waist and looked up at him affectionately. "You worry too much, Thranduil."

"It is impossible to worry too much," he growled back, even as he embraced her. With a soft sigh, she laid her head on his shoulder. He felt his scowl lighten, and stroked the gold hair that fell down her back. "It is just something that would ease my mind, Silme," he said softly. "I know you do not think that it is neccesary, and maybe it is not. At least not where your safety is concerned." He looked down into her lovely face and felt his heart twist. "But it would make me worry less." He saw, with a leap of hope, that her expression was thoughtful. She was considering it at least. Perhaps she would go along with the idea after all. "And just think," he said lightly. "You would always know that Legolas would never be able to touch them."

The Queen of Mirkwood laughed, even as she reached up to kiss him.

0-0-0-0

"Legolas."

A singsong voice floated through the halls of Mirwood's palace. Servants and courtiers smiled as they heard it.

"Leeeegooolaaas…"

The Queen was playing hide and go seek with the prince.

"Le…go…las…"

Now, if the Queen's voice had been of a different pitch, they would have surmised that she was no longer playing and had actually lost track of the golden haired elfling. Chores would be abandoned, papers left unsigned, and the whole of the household would have joined in the search. The task had become nearly a daily routine.

Elenlor peeked around a corner, listening intently. Legolas usually gave himself away with giggling long before she would have actually spotted him. The elfling was really quite adept at hiding himself.

Nothing.

Grinning, she set off down the hall, calling her son as she went.

0-0-0-0

Legolas heard his mother, but at the moment, his mind was concerned with more important things. Such as clinging to the shelves in her and ada's bedchamber in an attempt to climb them. He was really doing very well. He had already nearly scaled the entire set.

Blue eyes gleamed as he raised his head over the last shelf and beheld the prize he sought.

Nana's knives.

He struggled a little getting down with the blades, quickly abandoning an attempt to climb one handed and stuffing the weapons into his tunic. Luckily for him, they were sheathed.

Gwiwileth whined plaintively from the floor, not liking his master to be out of his reach.

"Shhhh," Legolas hissed down, nearly unbalancing himself in the process. "Nana will hear you." With the knives safely out of the way, he easily clambered to the floor and sat himself on the carpet, cross legged. The blades were in his hands in moments, their sheathes discarded.

The blond prince eyed their gleaming surfaces with wonder, and for a while, amused himself by pulling faces and laughing as he saw himself reflected back. This was the first time he had ever held them…Nana did not like for him to even touch their cases.

The prince stood and swung the knives through the air, imagining himself fighting off the spiders that threatened Mirkwood. He was Legolas, the Mighty! Imaginary arachnids fled before him in droves, but he gave them no quarter.

Afte several minutes of this play, Legolas decided he had slain enough enemies for one day. He plopped back down on the floor and grinned at Gwiwileth. The dog whined softly, seeming to know that what his master was doing was not something that he should be doing.

Legolas blew hair out of his eyes irratibly. That one lock was always in his face. No matter what he, or Nana did, it always fell in his eyes. Said eyes lighted on the blade in in his small fist. Without hesitating, the elfling lifted the knife and sliced (rather awkwardly) through the annoying lock.

With amazing ease, it fell into his lap. The prince was enthralled. That had been kind of fun. Just to make sure, he tried on another golden strand. Same effect.

How long this continued, he wasn't sure. When he was finished, there was a circle of golden braids and loose hair around him. He looked around for something else to cut, and his eyes fell on the dog at his side.

"Here, Gwiwileth…"

0-0-0-0

Elenlor's eyebrows drew together in concern. It was not usual that Legolas managed to hide this long. She would search in her and Thranduil's bedchambers, and if he was not there, she would alert the staff.

The queen pushed her door open, striding forwards. "Legola AAAAAAA!" Elenlor could not help the scream that forced itself through her lips.

There, in the center of the room, sat her son. He held her knives in his small hands. His hair had been cropped to no more (and sometimes significantly less) than a handsbreath, all around his head. It lay in shining piles around him.

Gwiwileth whimpered, and raced out of the room. Elenlor realized only then that there was also a goodly quantity of brown hair on the floor with the gold. Leaping forward, she snatched the blades from her son's hands, ignoring his cry of protest. His cry turned to a yelp as his mother slapped his hands. Hard.

Elenlor's eyes were hard. Behind their icy front, she trembled. He could have cut himself at any moment! Imagining walking in to find a pool of blood instead of hair, she shuddered. "Ion nin, are you allowed to touch Naneth's knives?"

Legolas wilted somewhat, rubbing his hands disconsolantly. "No."

"Legolas!" her hand touched his shorn hair. "Why!"

The blue eyes were downcast. "U-Iston."

She fought the urge to scream. A small sliver of guilt pierced her anger, but it only made her more enraged when she thought of it. If she had been wearing her blades, as Thranduil had asked her to, this would not have happened.

If Thranduil had not made the knives in the first place, it would not have happened either.

Somehow, she though as she grimly grabbed her son and hustled him from the room, this was all Thranduil's fault.

0-0-0-0

Thranduil poked at his food absently, wondering where his wife and son were. Usually, they joined him for the evening meal. In fact, if anyone was absent, it was always him.

The door opened, and Thranduil straightened, smiling as he watched his wife enter the room. Legolas walked at her side, but her body all but blocked the elfling from his father's view. Something else caught his attention, and he felt his smile widen. "Meleth nin! You are wearing your knives!"

The icy glare he received took him aback. He had not seen a look of such malice linger in his wife's lovely eyes since his rather infamous first words to his son. Elenlor was obviously furious.

With a low sound in her throat that almost sounded like a growl, the queen pulled her son in front of her. Thranduil stared, open mouthed. "What happened!" Legolas' hair was cropped incredibly short all around his head. It looked as though he had been given a haircut by a blind barber. The Elvenking's green eyes fell on Elenlor's knives, and a vague suspicion started to grow in the back of his mind.

Elenlor sat Legolas down, then joined her husband. He nearly winced under the power of her intensely evil look. "He was in our room, Thranduil," she said, her voice low. "And he cut his hair with these…things!" she motioned to the weapons at her waist.

Somehow, the fair king realized, this was all his fault. He decided against reminding his wife that she was the one who had left the blades unattended. "It will grow back, Elenlor. He was probably just curious to see what he would look like without his hair…"

"I suppose we should be thankful he did not wish to know what he would look like without his ears." Her voice was bitingly sharp. She stabbed at the food on her plate viciously. "You are the one who had those knives made."

Thranduil smiled at her charmingly. "You are the one who decided not to wear them." Elenlor's face turned bright red, and her eyes narrowed. Before she could respond, however, her husband took her hand gently and continued. "What do you want me to say, Elenlor? That I am sorry I care about your safety? I am not. I had those made for a reason, and you are the one who would not listen to me." The Elvenking glanced down at their sheared son and smiled wryly. "His hair will grow back. He was not injured." He squeezed her hand for a moment. "Wear your weapons, Elenlor."

Releasing her delicate fingers, he returned his attention to his meal. There were a few very long moments of silence…

"Is that the order of the king?"

Thranduil smiled. He could hear in her tone the apology that she was too emarrassed to actually say. "No," he said softly. Setting down his fork, he reached towards her and gently stroked her cheek. "It is a request, from one who loves you."

The queen kept her gaze down for several more moments, but when she finally looked up, a slight smile pulled at her lips. "In that case, I suppose I have no choice but to acquiece." She glanced toward their son, and sighed softly. "And I also believe that our charming young prince is going to need some hats."

Legolas looked up when he heard his title and grinned at his parents. The effect of the sweet innocent smile surrounded by the chopped evidence of his mischief struck Thranduil as funny, and he began to laugh, first quietly, then louder when he saw his wife's indignant glare. She stared hard at him for a moment, then turned back to her son. And she couldn't help it. The light melodious tinkle of her laughter suddenly rang out as a counterpoint to the deeper chuckling of her husband. Dinner was forgotten as the king and queen of Mirkwood gave full vent to their mirth, and even the servants couldn't help smiling broadly as they cleared the dishes away.

0-0-0-0

meleth nin- My love

Ion nin- my son

U-iston- I don't know

Losto mae, ion nin- Sleep well my son

Hir nin- My lord

0-0-0-0