Notes: Seriously guys, this plotbunny will not be stopped. I haven't agonized over plot or editing or anything except that I played with the ambiguity of Legolas's age. Consider this direct proof of the chaos in my head lol. Thanks for all who've read so far!

T.A. 2770

The world is changing. Thranduil cannot keep pace with its changes—he has lost so much and stands to lose more. He keeps Legolas close to him, even as he grows up. His son looks to him with curiosity in his eyes.

"Ada, why do we never go to the woods anymore?" Legolas asks one day. It is spring and the season calls to the elfling. By all means, it should have been the season for frolicking outdoors. Thranduil stoops down so that he is eye to eye with his son.

"There are creatures in the woods that make them unsafe to our folk. I would have none of you harmed, so in our Halls we will remain."

The words of the young are always brutal. The innocence in Legolas's voice tears at him when he softly asks, "Did they steal nana away?"

Thranduil finds himself powerless to respond. The Eryn Galen darkens and he has moved his people north. He is King Thranduil, the last great Elvenking in Arda. He betrays nothing though he is afraid.

The lengths to which he will go to keep his people safe amaze those old enough to remember the horrors of Thingol's murder. It is a mark of Thranduil's desperation that he should commission the Dwarven-king Thrór's builders to make a stronghold for him. It is an intricate system of caverns where the Wood-elves can safely dwell. The King under the Mountain agrees—with one stipulation. He has heard of the gems of Lasgalen, of their otherworldly beauty, and what Thrór desires, he shall have.

Thranduil inwardly balks this. These gems are heirlooms of his people. They are timeless—they belonged to his mother, then most recently, most painfully, to his wife. He cannot falter before the Dwarves, he is too proud. He forces out of his mind his promise to Glawardis.

When the bargain is struck, the deeds signed and payment agreed upon, Thranduil knows he has made the best decision. The Dwarves are masters of their craft—where mountains once stood there now existed the Elvenking's Halls, stately and impenetrable. No foul things can harm them here; his trust in the Dwarves was well-founded despite historical precedent.

Thranduils sends the Dwarven retinue off with their precious cargo. The welfare of his kin, of his young son, is far more precious than any gemstone. At the height of Erebor's majesty, Thranduil pays homage to Thrór and thanks him for the work of his people. Astonishingly, the Dwarves present the very same gems that Thranduil never thought to lay eyes on again.

Does King Thrór mean to return them, in a gesture of goodwill? He reaches toward the open chest that bears Glawardis's necklace, only to have it snapped shut at Thrór's whim. Evidently the King under the Mountain thinks Thranduil a fool for paying such a high price for a stronghold made purposefully inferior to Erebor.

He does not speak. Turning to depart, the Elves harden their hearts to the Dwarves—the Elvenking has warned Thrór what his avarice will summon. Thranduil knows well the desolation of dragonfire. Though he led the war effort against the fire-drakes of the North, there is one that still lives. The one that claimed Glawardis's life. It is only a matter of time before it descends upon Erebor's treasures.

Thranduil watches from his Halls as his prediction comes true. Smaug the Golden has come. Erebor is sacked. The lake shines and burns. He feels a deep sense of sorrow for the Edain of Dale and Esgaroth whose only fault was their proximity to the Lonely Mountain. These prosperous realms are felled in less than a day. When a message for aid arrives from Thorin, grandson of Thrór, Thranduil considers sending his army.

When he sees the grim resolve in his warrior's faces, Thranduil's anguish overtakes him. He does not want more blood on his hands. No help came from the Elves that day nor any day since; whatever good relations there were between them and the Dwarves were severed.

Orcs and giant spiders creep closer to the borders of his diminished kingdom. Thranduil longs more than ever for the peace of the sea. It is the intoxicating oblivion and the softness of the sea-nymph's lips that are salient in his memory. Will she understand all that has come to pass, all that has kept him away?

In a fit of pique, Thranduil leaves the realm to his Council. He kisses Legolas farewell and promises to return, though even at that young age, the princeling knows better than to fully believe him.

He clearly remembers the way but finds he must chart a new path. The place where he forded the Anduin has widened dangerously and the pass through the Hithglaer is now beset by the presence of Orcs. The power of the sea-song swells the closer he gets.

At last he comes to the beach he loves so well. Of the changes he has seen and felt in the world, this haven is unchanged. He stalks toward the water and stands knee deep, the waves break dramatically on the shore and threaten to reel him in. His impatience gets the better of him. He wades further and further into the water, he swims forth and with the biggest breath he can take, plunges into the ocean. His vision is bleary as he searches for her.

When he feels like he will faint from lack of air, Tauriel emerges from the depths. Striking as ever, her hair is still festooned with pearls and her eyes full of gladness when they meet his. She takes his hands and steadies him against the powerful current. No harm will come to him when she is near. The protector becomes the protected in this kingdom of blessed silence.

Later, they lay upon the sand as they used to. She begrudges him not for his long absence. He tells her of the wife he's loved and lost, and of his son.

"You only come to me when you are in need of comfort." Tauriel says sadly. "Is it an equal trade for you expect me here but when I might have need of that same comfort, you are nowhere to be found?"

Tears spill from her eyes and the sight of her weeping is more than he can bear. A daughter of the seas is not meant to weep, her tears are her lifeblood. He does not want her to shed them on his behalf. There is too much sadness in the world; he never wants to be the cause of hers again. Despite this, he knows he will hurt her anyway and the foresight pains him.

"Would that you could return with me," He says, voice thick. She has been with him for thousands of years in spirit. They both know that nothing more is possible.

Before he leaves, Tauriel gives him a strand of the pearls she has always worn. The world is changing and Thranduil knows not what lies ahead. When the Eryn Galen becomes Mirkwood and the darkness feels especially oppressive, he holds them close and thinks of her.