Oh my God it's...it's ME. Returning. With the rest of...of THIS.

It's been so long since I've written this story that it now causes me physical pain to look at it. No, really. It's like a knife stabbing me between the ribs, it hurts so bad. I hate this story.

But upon randomly contemplating (weird, huh?), I figured it was unfair to leave this unfinished when so many people had enjoyed it, so I decided to post the last three chapters. Ugh, this story.

I'll probably be dabbling in JTHM fanfiction from now on, or something equally, um, I dunno, different. Continue on to this...thing here.

The next morning's sun found two elves sitting in Prince Legolas' sleeping chamber, one sitting cross-legged on the bed supporting a food tray on his knees while the other sat in a chair. They were highly enjoying their time together as they had not for a long while, and the sun had an excellent memory. The balcony door was wide open to allow the soft breeze of summer to enter, and the thin gossamer curtains danced merrily with the wind. Light laughter could be heard from within the chamber.

"I guess it is too late to get to the Vénos in time," Legolas mused, taking a bite out of his bread. "If you do not send a letter to Calen soon he'll use his imagination to come up with some story about our grievous deaths. I bet I would be the one who gets eaten by some animal, and you'd be the one who falls from a cliff." Thranduil chuckled softly and shook his head.

"I'm sure your right," he replied. "We have been gone a long while. The kingdom will go into panic if we do not return soon, and Calen would only encourage it."

"Brilliant leaving him in charge, Ada," Legolas jabbed, rolling his eyes.

"You hush and eat before I do it for you," Thranduil said in mock fatherly firmness, fixing his son with one of his glares.

"Yes sir," Legolas replied, taking another bite of his bread. "By the way, how were my centií when you left?" The king ripped off his own piece from his son's large hunk of bread and glanced up.

"Lalaith and Fehinte are doing great," he replied, eating his chunk of bread. "You have been gone a while; they are starting to miss you. You need to meet your new grandbaby centií."

"What?" Legolas asked, almost choking on his food. His eating now halted, he looked up in surprise at his father. "Lalaith has delivered a calf? When did this happen?"

"A day before I left to come here," Thranduil said, gesturing for his son to eat. The prince had not been fed during his time with the orcs, equaling to about three days without food or water. He wanted to make sure the young elf gained the nutrition he had lost during those days. "It was slightly premature, but you have a brand new male centií waiting for a name and his grandfather at home."

"Is he healthy?" Legolas asked, continuing to eat at his father's urgings.

"From what I saw. He was running about with his mother and father after a few hours. Lalaith and Fehinte make excellent parents."

"I had not realized I had been gone so long. I did not even know Lalaith was expecting."

"It is hard to tell if a centií is pregnant," Thranduil smiled. "I wonder why."

"Hush, Ada," Legolas said, grinning and taking another bite of his bread. "That is my centií you are talking about and I will not have my children insulted. Speaking of my children, has Guithar caused any recent trouble?" Thranduil groaned in a very undignified manner and rolled his eyes.

"Please, that raccoon of yours always has to cause trouble when you are not there to stop him. He broke the vase that Calen had hand-painted. Calen was not very happy, I can tell you that. Before he could serve Guithar as a side dish in dinner, I took him and locked him in your room. Knowing that overgrown rat, he'll find a way out." Legolas chuckled and shook his head. Thranduil knew how fond of that raccoon his son was. That was the only thing keeping him from tossing the creature back into the forests where the prince had found him to nurse back to health.

"Well, then I guess I will have to give him a firm talking-to," Legolas joked, brushing the crumbs from his hands and placing the food tray on the side table.

"I know you almost as well as that rat of yours to assure myself that you will do no such thing," Thranduil said. "You will praise Guithar, more like." Legolas feigned innocence and gazed at his father with large blue eyes.

"It was not my fault that vase was so horrid," he said. "Calen can balance wages and help you run the kingdom, but he cannot paint." Thranduil laughed and nodded.

"Yes, you are right about that," he replied. "To tell you the truth, I even said a good few words to the rat before I threw him into your bedroom and locked the door." Legolas smiled.

"You see? He did us all a favor then," he said, settling back onto his pillows. "He is good for something and is not as bad as you so claim."

"Well, he's good at melting away your anger by simply looking at you innocently, I'll give him that," the king muttered. "The guilty ones are always armed with adorable eyes as a defense in case of danger." At those words Legolas turned large blue eyes to his father, raising his eyebrows and playing the very part of innocence. Thranduil laughed.

"Exactly what I mean," he jabbed. "You are one of those little deceivers." The prince put a hand over his heart as if he were astonished to be accused of such a thing.

"Why, Ada," he murmured. "What did I ever do to mark myself as mischievous?"

"Aside from the time you once hid your mother's favorite jeweled headdress?" Thranduil asked, scanning his memories. "Or the time you allowed Guithar to relieve himself in my boots? Or what about the time you led one of your centií into the palace and placed it in Calen's room?" Legolas laughed at the memory.

"His eyes were huge when he saw what lay behind that door!" he laughed. "He looked ready to faint when he saw Lalaith sitting on his bed! That was a good one, you have to admit."

"I had to turn away to hide my smile," Thranduil admitted. "That was clever."

"I thought so," Legolas said. "That is, of course, until Naneth scolded me."

"She was always firm about your pets coming in contact with Calen," Thranduil mused. "He did not like animals coming into his room or his things."

"That's why I did it," Legolas confessed. "As well as the fact that he had forced me to scrub the floors after catching me with a bow and arrow in the house."

"You were taking aim at his vase!" Thranduil laughed. "Of course he would stop you."

"Well, now it's gone," Legolas sighed. "Too bad I could not have done it myself. I would have liked to." Thranduil shook his head and was ready to respond when a small voice shouted from the doorway.

"Legolas!"

Aragorn raced into the room and bounded onto the bed, jostling the covers. He wrapped the elf prince tightly in his thin arms.

"Estel, what are you doing galloping around the place like this?" Legolas asked. 'Estel' was now what Legolas called the young boy. Dev's elven family was starting to pick up the habit. "You are still healing."

"It doesn't hurt," the boy replied, releasing his friend and sitting back. The prince caught the small grimace of pain that flickered across the young one's features before disappearing, but Legolas knew he had seen it.

"Estel, you need to be resting, not sprinting," the elf said. "You are in pain and I can see it. Stop running around or you'll cause yourself more damage."

"Alright," Aragorn sighed. "Can I rest with you, then?"

"Of course," Legolas smiled. "Why don't you get some parchment and a pen and I'll teach you how to draw a raccoon? Remember not to run." The boy's face brightened and he slid from the bed, walking to the door and opening it. As soon as the wooden door snapped shut, the keen hearing of the elves distinctly heard the soft patter of running feet down the hall.

"Estel!" Legolas called. "Stop running!" Thranduil smiled and chuckled quietly.

"He's exactly like you were when you were an elfling," he mused. "Mischievous, disobeying, so innocent in every way…or so you seemed." Thranduil saw his own fatherly protectiveness reflected in his son as the prince chided the young boy and the king realized just how grown Legolas was.

"Now I have to suffer," Legolas rolled his light blue eyes to the ceiling.

"No, Elrond has to suffer," Thranduil corrected. "You are merely temporary, ïon-nîn." Aragorn came quickly back, his running stopping just outside the door, where he opened it and walked calmly in. The only signs that gave away his sprint were his flushed cheeks and slightly hard breathing.

"I told you not to run, Estel," Legolas raised his eyebrows at the boy, who climbed onto the bed. Aragorn gazed innocuously at his elven friend with large silver eyes. Thranduil chuckled.

"See? Guilty one always have the look of innocence for defense," he confirmed.

"But I was not running, Legolas," Estel muttered. Legolas smiled and ruffled the unkempt, curly locks.

"Sure, Estel," he mumbled, leaning over. "Would you like to draw a raccoon or what?" Thranduil leaned in to give some tips as Aragorn sketched a simple outline of a raccoon with the help of the two elven royals.

Estel crept from his room silently, trying to open the door on silent hinges. It creaked slightly and he jumped, listening for any movement from the other rooms, but the place was still sound asleep. Aragorn padded quietly down the hall and made his way to Legolas' room. He had had another night terror about the orcs. He normally would have gone to Elrond, but he had bothered the elven lord enough times during the past couple of days. And Legolas was the only other one who would really truly understand the horrors of the orcs, for he was the only other one who had experienced it also.

Aragorn pushed the door open. It slid around in a wide arc and thumped quietly against the wall. Estel located Legolas' bed and snuck to its side, placing his lit candle on the table. Legolas was deep in sleep, his eyes open in the manner of elves, his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath he took. Aragorn hated to bother the prince. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should go get Elrond instead. Legolas seemed so peaceful and the boy did not want to be a nuisance. He turned slowly around and grabbed his candle, but his hand bumped against a bowl, which chinked softly against another plate. It was a small noise, but a small noise was all it took to wake an elf.

"Estel?"

Aragorn turned back around to face Legolas, who was raised up on his elbows, blinking weariness from his eyes.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered, looking down. "I…I did not mean to wake you."

"What are you doing here, young one?" Legolas asked softly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. His long white nightshirt draped over his lithe frame and reached past his knees. "Is something wrong?" He knelt down in front of the bashful child, trying to meet his eyes.

"I…I had a nightmare," Estel admitted. "I came in here to wake you up, but then I didn't want to disturb you. I didn't want to be an annoyance." Legolas smiled gently and curled a finger under the small boy's chin, tilting his head up.

"Estel, if you ever got frightened in the night and came to console in me, you would never be an annoyance," the elf whispered. "I could be in a coma and I would wake up to comfort you. Come." Legolas stood and lifted the boy with him, taking the candle and putting it on the bedside table before placing Aragorn on his bed. He sat down in front of his young friend and crossed his legs.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly. The boy nodded and inched slightly closer.

"I…keep seeing the orcs," he started hesitantly, beginning to fiddle with the bedsheet. "And you are still tied to the tree. And then it kept hitting you…I wanted it to stop but it didn't…and then…it…" His words were choked off and he struggled to continue. Tears built in his eyes. Too many had Legolas seen in the large eyes of this innocent child. Too many tears had touched his cheeks ever since the horrible day they were taken by the orcs. Too many, each a sign of grief and pain, had come from this young boy, who should not have had to deal with such things or emotions.

Legolas tugged Aragorn gently onto his lap. He held the boy close and rocked him slowly back and forth.

"It's all right, Estel," he murmured. "If you don't want to say any more you don't have to. Just know that I'm here." Aragorn buried his face into Legolas' shoulder and breathed in a forest-like scent he had smelled around the prince since his first day in Rivendell. The arms around him and the soothing presence of his elven friend calmed his fears and he relaxed in Legolas' embrace.

"It killed you, Legolas," he whispered softly, knowing that the keen elven ears would hear the rest of his story. The elf's arms around him tightened protectively. Legolas sighed slightly.

"That is what I thought," he murmured. "Things like that you should not have to experience, Estel. Those orcs drilled that into you painfully. I'm sorry this had to happen." Aragorn closed his eyes and shifted closer.

"It was not your fault," he mumbled tiredly. "Nothing was." Legolas smiled slightly as he felt the small form in his arms fully go lax as sleep took Aragorn away. He kissed the young boy's brow and laid him in the bed, pulling the covers up. He settled behind the small human, with Estel's back against his chest. Aragorn moved back against him and finally lay still, certain he was in a comforting presence. Legolas rested down next to his friend and allowed sleep take him.

Neither of them saw nor heard the person come through the door. The figure's eyes grazed around the room to rest on the elf and the human child settled comfortably on the bed. Elrond walked silently to the table and blew the candle on the bedside table out before his eyes came to rest on the two sleeping friends. He smiled gently. He loved his son with all of his heart, and he was beginning to love Legolas like another one of his own. The prince and boy had become close. Elrond knew what a blow it would make to Aragorn when Legolas had to leave for his own realm.

But that day would not come until later, so for now, Elrond let them sleep in peace.

I'll probably post the next tomorrow, unless I get bored. Blah.