Legolas smiled widely, his eyes excited.
"Really, Ada? After all these years, I assumed you'd forgotten your promise."
Thranduil turned in a flash of robes, peering intently at his son.
"Lėl nin, you doubted me? I admit, I am curious about Arina as well. She is grown now, as are you. She nears her seventh mortal year, as you round your ninth."
Legolas laughed. "It feels as nothing. I pity mortals, these 11 years must have seemed so long to them."
Thranduil nodded briskly. "They are greedy, selfish. Do not pity those who don't deserve it."
The amusement vanished from Legolas' face as he grimaced, regretting his comment.
"Of course."
Thranduil analyzed his son's expression.
"We leave in two hours, near high noon. Call Daeron and alert him of this."
Legolas bowed, retreating from his father's chambers, his thoughts on the upcoming journey and the ultimate destination.