Hey, everyone! So it occurred to me that you guys don't know a certain character as well as I thought, so I decided to fix that.

"So I can only move the horse this far, but I can move the queen all the way to the end of the board in one move..." Storm put his chin in his hand and looked up at his sister. "Are you going to run that fast when you're queen?"

"I very much hope you will never have to find out," Thranduil said, lifting his ink bottle out of his wife's reach as she tried to grab it for use against her brother, causing Galion to let out a strangled gasp as the black liquid sloshed dangerously.

It was a fairly typical afternoon so far for the prince and his wife (who was not a princess)—Thranduil had work to do, so he was scanning through letters on the couch; Eithryn was beside him, leaning over to teach her brother to play chess on the table—which was pushed over so she could reach it—while Galion served as an extra player, a target for thrown chess pieces, and the snack-bringer. It was not the most peaceful work environment, but Thranduil never lacked entertainment, and he still usually finished in time to spend the evening in whatever bizarre activity his wife had thought up. Actually, he was more or less done already, but admitting such would mean giving up his role of spectator.

Coryn sighed dramatically and drummed his fingers on the edge of the board. "The orc king is trying to attack my castle thingy, so I'll order Sky to come over here and defend it." He moved the queen to threaten Eithryn's piece.

His sister grinned and moved it back. "I don't follow orders."

Thranduil snorted. "Very true."

"Fine, I'll move you instead, since you don't have any problem with—Sky, wait, I was joking! ...You just killed your husband, sis."

Thranduil tried to look hurt. "Eithryn, I thought you loved me!"

"It had to be done," she said, giving him an almost-sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I was doing so well," Coryn mourned as he reset the pieces. Galion started to help him, but then jumped up as they heard a knock on the door.

Thranduil sighed. "So, my love, what will you do now that I am gone?"

"Invite Kilvara to move in, because otherwise I'll be lonely," she said with a shrug. "Besides that, I figure things will be about the same."

He frowned. "Ouch..."

"And I'll take out the closets."

His expression told her he was not amused.

She rolled her eyes. "Thranduil, you know perfectly well that I'm joking."

"Are you sure? I can easily imagine you doing that."

Her mouth fell open, and she slapped him across the face. "How dare you, Thranduil Oropherion! Don't you ever say something like that again."

Everyone stared at her, especially Thranduil, who could not remember the last time someone had even tried to slap him. Storm stood up and circled around behind the prince in case he did something foolish.

And then Thranduil burst into hysterical laughter. "You—sound—like—my—mother!" he gasped as soon as he could breathe well enough.

Sky groaned.

"I can confirm that," Taensirion, who was standing in the open doorway and keeping a straight face through sheer willpower, agreed.

"Hey, Taen," Storm said, snickering. Thranduil forced back his laughter and waved for him to come in.

The Sindar shook his head. "Oh, no, I am in no hurry. Let me know when you are finished with your discussion." With a mischievous grin, he tipped his head toward Eithryn, who was waiting with her arms crossed for her husband to make eye contact, and slipped outside before Thranduil could protest.

"Me, too," Storm agreed, and he followed. Galion went last and closed the door.

Thranduil grimaced and turned back to his wife. "How angry are you?"

"Very." She glared down at the floor. "You really think I wouldn't care? Thranduil, I... I can't even imagine what I'd do."

"I know." He held out his arms, and she reluctantly accepted the hug. "I did not really mean it, Eithryn."

"Then why'd you say it?" she growled into his shoulder.

"Perhaps I was hoping you would take a moment to prove that you would miss me."

She pulled away and gave him a look. "Seriously?"

"It seemed like a better idea at the time." He waited until she started to get up. "So...?"

"No, Thranduil, I'm not going to kiss you after you tried to guilt me into it by insulting me."

He nodded as though he understood, but as she turned to leave, he caught her and managed to steal a kiss, after which she rolled her eyes again and stalked out to join their friends.

Coryn looked immensely disappointed to see them both in one piece. "What, not even going to yell at each other?"

His sister shook her head at him. "Didn't need to. You heard every word anyway."

He grinned, admitting his guilt.

"What do you need?" Thranduil asked Taensirion.

"It is less a need than an invitation. You see, my children have been pestering me to let them meet the prince and princess—"

Eithryn let out a small shriek. "YOU HAVE CHILDREN?! How old?!"

Taensirion chuckled, embarrassed. "Two are fully grown, and two are about this tall." He held his hand up to the middle of his waist.

Eithryn looked ready to spontaneously combust. "Twins!"

Taensirion shrugged. "I suppose."

Coryn gave him a funny look at that, but his sister wasn't paying attention. "Why did no one ever tell me he had a family?" she demanded of Thranduil.

"I assumed you knew," the surprised prince said.

"Can I meet them?" she begged Taensirion. "Please?"

Taensirion patted the air to calm her. "That is what I was suggesting," he chuckled.

. . . . . .

"Perhaps it is none of my business, but it seems you have been forgiven?" Taensirion asked as he and Thranduil walked through the forest—the copper-haired siblings were laughing and teasing each other as they leapt through the trees above.

"She will likely remember later, but I do not imagine she will still be angry. I suppose I have you to thank for that." The prince smirked. "Which reminds me, did I ever thank you for disobeying the king?"

"Many times, my lord," Taensirion chuckled, knowing what he was referring to. "But as I said before, it was nothing. Although," he added after a moment, "I suppose I was punished for my disloyalty, in a way; I have rarely seen your father in such a foul mood as he displayed over the following days." He winked.

Thranduil was not apologetic. "He is adjusting."

"After several centuries."

Both elves laughed. "He is not a flexible one, your father," Taensirion noted.

"I believe I inherited that trait."

The advisor, who had known Thranduil all his life, could hardly disagree.

. . . . . .

"So, princess," Storm asked, ducking the expected flying acorn from his choice of words, "Speaking of children, when do I get nieces and nephews?"

To Storm's disappointment, she didn't even roll her eyes. "Whenever I manage to convince Thranduil that they're something he's capable of understanding. I don't think he's ever talked to children, honestly."

"I guess Kilvara's sisters would've been grown up by the time he started voluntarily spending time with us," Storm said thoughtfully. "Hey, if he needs any advice—"

"Yeah, I don't think so," Sky interrupted. "Cake still isn't a good breakfast food, Storm. Especially for me."

"I was young!" he protested, stopping to wait for the Sindar to catch up below them. "And I was going to say he could talk to Taensirion! Not me!"

"Good."

"And you're one to talk about good breakfast foods... but yeah, my life would've probably been easier if I hadn't given you so much sugar."

"Not to mention you let me get in the habit of only eating once or twice a day. It drives Thranduil crazy."

Storm shrugged and grinned. "You would've learned that one from Mom, anyway."

"Good point." Sky rolled her eyes. "Anyway, you were an amazing big brother... but a good father, not so much."

"I repeat, I was young," Storm sighed.

"Hopefully you'll do a better job next time," his sister said mischievously.

He shook his head. "We've been over this, Sky. I can't get married. The consequences would be too great."

She just smiled. "Taensirion has two adult children, doesn't he? They could be daughters."

"At least one of them is. I've met her. Sindar through and through."

"And we know our family has a thing for Sindar, don't we?" she pointed out shamelessly.

Storm elbowed her in the side hard enough to make her lose her balance; she tumbled off the branch and landed lightly on the ground next to the two Sindar, who glanced over curiously and then went back to talking. "Not a chance, sis!"

She stuck out her tongue at him and joined her husband, and as she did so, Taensirion cleared his throat to gain her attention. "They are both married, anyway," he told her with a chuckle.

"Rats."

"And their sister is too young to be thinking about such things," he added. "As you will see in three... two... one..."

They heard Storm cry out from the trees. "Ambush!"

Thranduil instinctively fell into a roll as an arrow flashed past him, and when he came up again, Taensirion was slumping to the ground, clutching his chest and moaning in agony. The prince ran to his side, cursing his foolishness; none of them had weapons of any sort. "Hold on, my friend, we will get you out of this somehow."

Taensirion quieted and opened one eye to regard him, and then, to the prince's utter bewilderment, the advisor began to laugh. "Oh, Thranduil, your face..."

The prince blinked, and then threw himself flat on the ground as Eithryn shouted, "Duck!" Another arrow flew over his head and bounced harmlessly off the tree behind him. The she-elf then picked up a large stick and let out a roar as she charged in the direction the arrow had come from.

Taensirion patted Thranduil's shoulder as he sat up, shoulders still shaking with silent laughter. "I assure you, my prince, I am quite all right."

"No, you're not!" a boy's voice loudly disagreed from the branches.

"Oh, right. My apologies." Taensirion sprawled out on his back and, with a smirk at Thranduil, closed his eyes and let his tongue flop out of the corner of his open mouth.

The prince turned in time to see his wife suffer a similar fate, and then he himself was struck in the shoulder by one of the toy arrows, leaving a stinging welt. He spun to glare up at the trees. "That hurt!"

"Then you should've been paying more attention," Eithryn called unsympathetically.

"Oh, come now, Thranduil, I remember you similarly attacking your father on many occasions," Taensirion added, still lying flat on the ground in a most undignified manner.

The prince could hardly stay angry while seeing his father's friend in that position, especially since he knew the truth of that comment; in fact, now that he thought about it, he remembered Taensirion dying quite skillfully many times back then, as well. "I suppose I may have given both of you a few bruises," he admitted.

"You were a child once! I knew it!" Eithryn grinned unapologetically as her husband narrowed his eyes at her, and her brother laughed as he dropped out of the trees to join them, wincing as he rubbed his side.

"I would offer to share some of my memories," Taensirion told her as he rose and brushed the leaves off his Silvan-style clothes, "but I am sure my prince has a multitude of unpleasant ways to get back at me. Anyway, allow me to officially introduce you to my younger children." He looked up at the trees and waved for their unseen attackers to come down. "This is my daughter Silana," he said as a young girl scrambled down from a tall pine. The child flashed an impish grin at the three and went to stand proudly next to her father; her hair was dark brown-black while his was medium-blond, but she had his clear gray eyes. "And this... Come on, little one..." The other elfling was apparently reluctant to come down, and the three could not see him from where they were, though Taensirion apparently could. "No need to be shy... There, good lad. This," he told them as the young one dropped out of the tree and sidestepped until he was half-hidden behind his father, "is my son Feren."

Sky frowned; something was not right here. She pointed at Taensirion. "Sindar." He nodded, smiling.

Sky pointed at Silana. "Sindar." Her dark hair meant nothing; many Sindar were dark-haired. Taensirion nodded again.

"Oh," Storm murmured, finally understanding Taensirion's comment about twins.

Sky turned to Feren. "...Silvan."

"Half-Sindar," he corrected.

She tilted her head and looked more closely at him. He had brown hair, dark brown eyes, and very clearly Silvan features. "By adoption?"

All three nodded proudly.

"That's... really cool," Sky told Taensirion, a smile growing on her face. "One would think someone would've told me about this," she added, with a meaningful look at her husband.

"I thought you knew everything that happened in this forest," he said.

"So did I," she grumbled. "You must be Aleinia's son," she said to Feren, "but I thought she lived halfway across the forest."

Taensirion nodded. "She wanted to move back to where she grew up, but they were having a hard time on their own." He smiled sadly down at Feren and put his arm around the Silvan boy. "So we invited them to move in, and now..."

"We have two moms," Silana finished. "So I'm one-third Sindar," she informed them in a "you'd-better-not-get-this-wrong" tone of voice.

"And they're both bossy," Feren added, all of his shyness apparently gone.

Taensirion gave the boy a swift thump on the top of his head—not enough to hurt him, of course, but enough to get his attention. "You do not speak of either of your mothers that way."

Feren ducked his head. "Yes, father. I'm sorry." It wasn't the first time he'd gotten in trouble for that sort of thing.

"I know," Taensirion said gently, and he ruffled the boy's hair. "Now, I believe both of you are forgetting something?"

Both of them looked up at him in confusion, and then Silana caught on and dropped down to kneel in front of Thranduil. "Sorry, my lord, we forgot."

"It is quite all right," Thranduil said as Sky moved over a few feet so she didn't have to yell at them for kneeling to her. "Rise."

The children did so, and Feren looked from Sky to his father questioningly, but Taensirion shook his head, knowing that the princess might kill him if he made his children act that way toward her. "I thought it was a good habit for them to get into," he told Thranduil. "They are to do the same every time your father visits."

The prince nodded, but Eithryn went up to the children and said, "If either of you ever do that to me, I'll tie you to a tree for a week. Got that?"

Feren and Silana eyed each other as if to say that this elf was crazy, but they nodded obediently.

. . . . . .

"Let me get this straight." Sky paused to swallow a spoonful of soup so that her husband couldn't complain that she hadn't eaten enough. "Taensirion and Lanthirel, you're both full Sindar who were born in Doriath."

They nodded.

"Faena, Milaera, and Silana are all full Sindar by birth, but by adoption they're each a third Silvan because they consider Aleinia their mother as well."

"Correct," Taensirion said.

"So what's Aleinia's relationship to you two?"

Lanthirel regarded the sad-eyed Silvan elf next to her fondly. "I call her my sister."

Aleinia returned her smile, but it only half reached her dark eyes. A perpetual cloud of sorrow seemed to surround the she-elf, which wasn't surprising if she'd only lost her husband a few years before. Still, she stuck close to Lanthirel, and it was obvious that whatever bond they had, it ran deep despite its newness.

"You know what I think?" Storm asked, pointing his spoon at the two of them. "If you two are sisters, you've got to have the same ancestry, right? The easiest way to do that is to make each of you half-Sindar and half-Silvan."

Lanthirel laughed softly. "I like that."

"But now I am the only full Sindar," Taensirion objected, to his children's amusement.

"You might get points for adopting one," Storm said thoughtfully. "And for dressing like us, unlike someone." He sent a pointed look at Thranduil. "Sky?"

"Maybe if he braids his hair," she decided. "Just like Feren's. Then he could be an honorary Silvan."

Everyone turned to Taensirion, who chuckled and fingered his loose hair. "I suppose I could try it."

Feren was bouncing up and down in his seat. "I can teach you, father!"

"It will look wonderful, father," Faena, whose own blond hair was in a simple braid, teased.

Milaera grinned. "Oh, yes. Maybe we should all experiment on him, you know, see what looks best."

"Yes!" Silana cackled. "He will suffer!"

Thranduil jumped and eyed the harmless-looking child nervously. That could not possibly be normal.

"Very well," Taensirion said, standing to carry his empty dishes to the sink. "Shall the torture begin now?"

"Let us take the prisoner to the dungeons, Feren," the youngest girl hissed as she grinned evilly.

"Clear the table first," Aleinia reminded them.

All four children did so in what was surely record time, and then Feren pulled Taensirion out of the room, followed by the three girls. "Come on!"

Thranduil listened as Silana's maniacal laughter faded away, then gulped and slowly turned to Eithryn. "You want some of those creatures?"

Sky grinned and nodded.

"Don't worry, prince," Storm said innocently. "I'm sure your children won't be like that."

Thranduil looked at him, then at Eithryn, then back at Storm. "And what will they be like?"

Storm grinned.

. . . . . .

Storm cautiously opened the door, peeking around it to make sure no one had set any traps since he'd left. There were none, as far as he could tell, so he went through and quietly closed the door behind him, then made for his room. Once safely inside, he checked under his bed, behind the curtains, and between the mattress and the wall (which he knew from experience to be a valid hiding spot), and then sat down on the bed and took two objects out from their hiding place inside his cloak. Then he waited.

Soon he heard the door open, and he put the objects down and went out into the living room, where he was immediately assaulted by a very small elf who was not nearly as tired as she was supposed to be.

"Storm, guess what we did today!" Sky cried, bouncing up and down, her huge green eyes wide.

Storm looked questioningly at the other elf who had come in, a red-haired youngster more than twice Sky's age, but still not quite full-grown. Kilvara just gave him a helpless shrug and collapsed into a chair, panting. "Did you run a lot?" Storm guessed.

"Yup! We ran and ran and ran—" Sky jumped up onto the couch as she said this, "—and then I think Kilvara got tired, so she told me all the squirrels were evil, and I had to catch as many as I could."

"She got seven," Kilvara told Storm.

"And then we played tag for a while, and then Kilvara made some of the grown-up elves play tag with me, 'cause she knew otherwise I would go find you—I know you told her to keep me busy, Storm—and then we ran ALL the way home."

"Wow," Storm said, lifting her off the couch. "You had a busy day."

"What are you trying to hide from me, Storm?" Sky was done with the distractions.

"I'm not trying to hide anything anymore," Storm answered, carrying her to his room. "Kilvara, do you want to come see?"

"I'd better get to, with the work I put into this," she said.

Storm paused at the door. "Close your eyes."

Sky did—mostly. Storm grinned and covered them with his hand, then went in and put her down on the bed. "Okay, you can look now."

Sky opened her eyes—and then they went even wider as she saw what was in front of her.

A small bow and a quiver of arrows. Real arrows.

She looked up at Storm. "Does this mean I can kill orcs now?"

. . . . . .

"Seven squirrels," Aleinia repeated, looking impressed.

"In about half an hour," Storm explained. "That's one squirrel every four minutes or so."

"So basically," Sky told her husband, "what you have to look forward to is what happened when your father gave me coffee."

Thranduil looked like he was seriously reconsidering his decision to marry her.

"Of course, they'll have some of you in them, too, so I'm sure they won't be that bad," Storm assured him. "Probably."

"Ahem."

They all turned.

"If I may have your attention," Milaera announced, and they noticed that her previously free black hair was now braided intricately. "We require your opinion—especially yours, mother," she added, nodding to Lanthirel. "Are you prepared?"

Everyone nodded eagerly, except for Thranduil, who cringed, wondering what they had done to poor Taensirion.

"Bring in the prisoner, Feren," Milaera ordered in a tone worthy of a queen.

There was a moment of silent anticipation as the elves nudged their reluctant father in, and then...

"That... actually suits you," Thranduil remarked in amazement.

"Does it not?" Faena asked.

Murmured agreements came from around the table, not least from Lanthirel, who suggested that maybe he should keep it that way.

Taensirion blushed slightly at that. "I suppose it is not so bad," he decided. His hair was now braided back in the style normal for Silvan males, which was really just enough to keep it out of the way. The main discomfort it seemed to be causing him was that he could no longer let it fall down in front of his face to hide him when he was embarrassed. "Certainly it is better than some of the other ways they tried..."

His children giggled.

"All right, I believe you have tormented your father enough for one day," Lanthirel declared. "Shall we all go outside?"

"A fine idea, my wife," Taensirion agreed. "I am sure our guests want to be tormented as well."

Silana snickered.

. . . . . .

A few minutes later, Thranduil and Taensirion were leaning over the balcony outside, watching Milaera interrogate Storm and Sky as the twins poked them with toy swords, while Lanthirel, Aleinia, and Faena talked in the branches below. "If it means anything, I am sure you will be a fine father," Taensirion told the prince.

"Do you think so?" Thranduil asked doubtfully.

"I do. Do you know why?"

Thranduil raised an eyebrow at the other Sindar, whose hair was still braided. "Do tell."

"Because not a week passed from when your father realized he was going to have a son until you were born when I did not have to tell him the same thing at least once."

Thranduil straightened in surprise. He could not remember his father ever being unsure of what to do with him. In fact, many of his first memories were of his father playing with him or showing him the city or proudly introducing him to whoever happened to come close enough. He suspected he had spent more of his early life carried on Oropher's shoulders than walking on his own feet.

Taensirion seemed to read his mind. "He did spoil you somewhat, I must admit, but not a tenth as much as his parents spoiled him. He learned from their mistakes, fortunately." He smirked at Thranduil's sudden interest. "Ah, my prince, the stories I could tell you. Unfortunately, just as you would, I am sure, get back at me for telling your wife about your youth, I fear it would be hazardous to my health to tell you about his." That, and he certainly would not want his children to know about his own involvement in those stories just yet.

Thranduil turned back to the scene below them as he absorbed that. He supposed he ought not to be surprised that his father had gotten up to something interesting in his youth. Perhaps he would ask about that the next time his father was furious about something his wife had done.

His thoughts shifted to the elf standing next to him. Taensirion had been a close friend of Oropher's since long before Thranduil's birth, but the prince had never payed much attention to him after he was too old to need another playmate, but ever since his father had made the mistake of giving the advisor a certain assignment, they had been talking more often, and he was discovering that he quite liked the other Sindar. Of course, no one could dislike him after watching him with his children...

...Who had vanished.

Taensirion, who had been watching Thranduil and musing that it had been a long while since he had really talked with his friend's son, was confused by the prince's sudden frown, and became even more so when Thranduil spun around, looking like he expected to find danger there.

"ATTACK!"

Thranduil dodged the arrows that came his way through a combination of agility and experience, while Taensirion took two straight in the chest as he tried to turn around. The latter quickly recovered, though, and both elves quickly reached the same conclusion as to their odds and scrambled for the house, holding their hands up to shield themselves.

. . . . . .

"Perhaps," Thranduil observed as he moved a box to make space for himself, "these children of yours are not so different from my wife after all."

Taensirion dusted off a pile of old sheets and sneezed. "Do you often have to barricade yourself in dark closets to escape from Eithryn?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, it is the only real way to get away from her. She dislikes small spaces, you know."

"That is convenient at the moment." Taensirion sneezed again. "I really ought to clean this out sometime."

"Perhaps you need a butler."

"No, I merely need to stop coming up with excuses. How long do you expect we shall be in here?"

"Probably longer if they hear us."

"True."

The two elves sighed and settled back to wait until it seemed safe to emerge.

I'm sure there are those of you who don't like a certain revelation in this story. That's just fine, but know that if you try to tell me so I will ignore you since it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Also, if you go to my profile page you will see a story called "A Little Help". Read it. You can think of it as a bonus chapter for this one :P

P.S. Yes, Taensirion sticks with the new hairstyle.