This chapter is not as ominous as it sounds.
Legolas knew who his visitor was as soon as he heard the knock; for one thing, his friends usually just yelled to let him know they were there. He was smiling as he opened the door, because he'd been looking forward to his next chance to talk with this particular elf—as a son instead of a prince, that was. "Hello, Ada."
"Hello, Legolas," Thranduil returned, and he was smiling as well, even though until a moment ago he had been frowning as usual. "May I come in?"
"Nope. No visits today, sorry," Legolas announced, grinning and starting to close the door.
Thranduil put his hand on the door and raised an eyebrow at his son. "Perhaps you would prefer I 'let' you sweep out my office?"
"You would not," Legolas said confidently, but he let his father in. His house—in the trees as were most Silvan houses, and notably lacking stairs—was clean (the parts visitors saw regularly, at least), and just about every surface had at least one plant on it. Thranduil immediately reclined on the couch (after setting a flower pot on the floor) and put his feet up on the other side, his smirk daring Legolas to try to remove him. The prince accepted the challenge and perched on the back of the couch instead, casually resting his long legs on top of Thranduil's in a way that was meant to cut off the king's circulation eventually, and then he waited, content to let his father start the conversation.
"So, elfling, what trouble have you gotten into lately?" Thranduil asked finally, determined to keep his legs where they were for as long as he could. It was a matter of pride, after all.
"Ada," Legolas said with perfect innocence, "what makes you think I have been in trouble?"
"I wonder," Thranduil replied. "I hear Tathor ended up in my dungeons for a few nights."
Legolas's blue eyes held no visible guilt whatsoever. "He deserved that."
"Did he, now?"
"Yes, Ada. He hid my bow in a badger hole."
"Hmm..." The Elvenking rather suspected that had been deserved as well, but he decided not to point that out.
"Is it true the dwarves sent an emissary?" Legolas asked curiously after a few moments.
Thranduil's response was automatic. "Yes, it is, and you would have gotten to meet him had you been in the palace today as you should have been."
"Sorry, Ada," the younger elf said, ducking his head. "I... ah..."
"Had something more important to do?" Thranduil asked dryly.
"It is a nice day," Legolas protested weakly.
"I see." Thranduil was hardly angry; he had not actually told Legolas to come, and the youngster was happier in the forest than in council meetings, anyway. It was hard on his son to endure the formality of the court. "Where did you go?"
Legolas perked up, or rather, he abandoned the pretense of shame. "To Tathor's meadow," he said, referring to the place where his best friend liked to contemplate the meaning of life and other such things. "The wildflowers are all blooming. You should see them."
"Perhaps I will visit them soon," Thranduil said, though he somehow doubted he would get the chance. He noticed that he could no longer feel his legs.
Legolas nodded.
They sat for a while in comfortable silence, with Thranduil mainly lamenting his workload and the prince thinking about a story Taensirion had told him a few nights before. "Ada?" Legolas asked suddenly.
"Yes?"
"Is it true that Grandfather helped you get Felrion and Kilvara together?" As he spoke, Legolas moved his legs to the side of the couch.
"It is," the Elvenking confirmed. "He complained about it, as I remember, but in fact he quite enjoyed it. Why do you ask?" He tried not to wince at the end as he felt the blood rushing back into his legs.
Legolas had originally been planning to phrase the question a bit differently, but he knew that some topics were too painful for his father. "Taensirion told me about it," he said. "It's hard to believe they were ever like that... I wish I had been there." Legolas chuckled.
"It was quite amusing." Thranduil's legs were filled with pins and needles now, but he refused to move.
Legolas couldn't bring himself to ask about his mother, who had apparently come up with the plan, but his father's obvious discomfort was almost as good, anyway. "Are your legs all right, Ada?" he asked, again with feigned innocence. He was good at that.
The Elvenking grimaced. "Yes."
"Oh, good. I would feel so bad if you had that feeling where it's like your legs are being stabbed from the inside... Or burning. Sometimes it is more like that."
One of Thranduil's legs jerked a little. "It is lucky I am not experiencing that, then."
"It helps to move when that happens," Legolas observed, watching Thranduil writhe.
"Yes," Thranduil said. "And if that were to happen to me, I would definitely want to... Ah..." He could not take it anymore; he jumped up and started pacing. Legolas immediately slipped down to where he had been.
"You win this time," Thranduil admitted, pausing to rub his legs vigorously.
The prince just smiled.