The last thing Legolas expected to encounter with a traveling circus which really shouldn't be out touring the continent during those dark days were fellow elves from his native Mirkwood. That was what he'd encountered however when the Fellowship crossed paths with just such a circus in which the pair of brothers from a rather well-to-do Silvan family had a high-wire juggling act which undoubtedly brought their poor family a great deal of shame.
"What an adorable little girl!" one of the Wood-Elf brothers exclaimed over the red-haired toddler who was resting in Agagorn's arms.
"Is she going to be your heir?" the second asked.
"She's not mine." Aragorn said with a smirk before pointing to Legolas with his free hand. "She's his."
"So, out spreading the royal seed then?" the brother who was only a century older than Legolas said, disapprovingly.
"Wait 'til your father hears about this." the younger said.
"I'd go to sea if my son shamed me so." the first said, shaking his head.
"But I...It's not mine, it just..." Legolas said, unable to find words because he was imagining all of the horrible things that would happen if such news reached his father, inaccurate though it was. It had been thousands of years since the last time an elf had died of a heart attack but, it would be just his luck if his father dropped dead of one once such tidings reached his ears.