(A/N) Thanks for the feedback! As per Koragg's suggestion (and my own obsession with elves), the following is a Thranduil and Legolas scene from the movie. Wanted some more father-son interaction, so had to get this one out. Keep those awesome suggestions coming!

Disclaimer: I don't own, but if I did, I wouldn't have already written a short fic with speculation on Legolas' family history. It was wrong. And if I knew, well now. It would be right, wouldn't it? So don't sue. It's rude.

WARNING: Serious spoilers if you haven't seen the movie, and dialogue is only as good as my memory. Oh. And feels.

Parting Words

Thranduil shifts uneasily when he approaches the scene. The darkness is etched into the crevices—Ravenhill reeking of death and sadness. The sky is cast in white and the cold shudders through every brick, but the battle is won, so the cool does not sting as it should. The head of ash blonde hair rounds the corner just as he does, and the Elvenking looks him over.

Though Legolas appears fine, his eyes suggest otherwise. His son is weaponless and tired. The king finds some relief—Legolas is physically unharmed. But again, the eyes. There is deep hurt in the icy blue. He can tell before Legolas says it.

He will not stay here.

Here as in home. As in Mirkwood.

A glance tossed to the outer deck of the stone structure reveals her, Tauriel (the name is thought with a little distaste), kneeling over the dead dwarf and Thranduil understands. He understands how it must hurt. But because he is ice on the outside, the Elvenking does not reach out, merely softens his scrutiny in sympathy.

And Legolas tries to be ice as well. But the façade cracks with a prod from the Sindar's gaze, and for just a moment the King can see how he truly feels. Pain-heartbreak-longing, but there is still respect there, and so he has turned his back on the mourner. Unrequited but accepted, and Thranduil feels a surge of pride, followed by a sadness he did not know he could still feel. Legolas is going to leave. Indefinitely.

And Thranduil must let him.

Brushing off the elf has been easy these past years. He is constant, loyal, dependable. He knows the ice is but a front and does not hold scathing remarks against the king that only expresses himself thusly. He is never hurting, nor in need of aid, and his counsel can only be compromised by conflicting friendships. Thranduil is proud of his son, his right hand in charge, and all the virtues he possesses that Thranduil knows himself to be lacking.

However, now Legolas is leaving and there must be more.

So Thranduil gives him something to hold on to—tales of a ranger in the north. A purpose to still his busy mind and distract from the hurt. It is a meager offering, but Thranduil is clutching at straws and still searching for more.

But the ice must remain because it is part of him, and melting a single layer would compromise the entire structure built above it. The sorrows and the pain must remain walled inside, numb beyond recognition. So Thranduil hides behind his frigid front and only allows the warmth he knows is there to touch his eyes.

Barely.

Just for a moment.

"Your mother loved you." He says from behind his wall—using her to say what he cannot bring himself to. And suddenly she is a part of him again. She can be thought of—can be spoken of again.

And it is important that Legolas hears it.

.

"More than anything."

.

"More than life."

.

But when ice melts there is water, and so he can feel his eyes are glimmering with wetness that can never fall, lest the rest of him crack and his coping mechanism fail. He can see Legolas' mouth part in surprise at the words, and something flickers behind those eyes.

You have not forgotten. The eyes say, as if a fear has been conquered, as if he had magically taken away a small fraction of the hurt.

.

As if this proffered token makes up for all the slights.

.

And Thranduil knows that his ice has caused hurt, because he has never intended her memory to be erased. Yet thoughts of her only bring pain, and so the ice was first let in to stop the fading. To stifle the ache and quench the feeling. Feeling causes mistakes. Sentiment clouds judgement.

But Legolas' ice is not like his. It still lets the memory in. It survives on the memory.

He sees that it is not truly ice at all.

He clasps his hand to his chest in parting gesture, a half bow of respect in the inclination of his head. And it is respect, because Legolas is far stronger than him to face the memory and the pain, and still come out whole on the other side.

Legolas returns the gesture, but it is lingering and there is feeling behind it.

And Thranduil lets him go, because he must go.

.

And he lets the memory back in.

Just for a moment.

.

And it hurts.

(A/N) Thanks for reading! Sorry it's so short. I did some fleshing out with a heavy metaphor here, and I'm not too sure I like the result, but I do think the scene was great in the movie, so any comments on the style would be greatly appreciated. Suggestions are life, and reviews are writing catalysts!