The next morning, I look up from my papers to see Legolas grimacing, struggling to open his eyes.

"Ion-nin, can you hear me?" I gently prompt him.

Finally, he opens his eyes and focuses on me.

"Ada," he whispers. He is still slightly flushed from a fever, and he looks ill and weakened. My heart aches for him, yet I have been waiting too long to have this conversation.

"Do you know where you are? What happened?"

He thinks hard. I can tell he is surveying his body, finding out where the hurts are.

"I… I was in your study when my wound began to bleed. I remember you taking me, nay, carrying me, to the healing halls."

Yes, I recall the memory vividly. It is not pleasant. I frown.

"Ada," he calls me for a second time since he has awakened. He does not often call me that now, not when others are around. I overlook the familiarity for now. "Why do you look displeased?"

"It has been four days, Legolas," I sigh.

"Four days?" his eyes widen. Even though he is not a healer, he has had enough experience with injury to know four days is longer than one with elven healing should have taken to recover or at least awaken from such a wound.

"The healers tell me it is taking you longer to heal," I begin. "They say it is due to the toll your body has been under, the lack of rest you have taken."

He does not reply, whether it is from discomfort, exhaustion, or willfulness. He looks away from me.

"What do you say to that, captain?" I ask. He calls me Ada, but I pivot to his military title, reminding him of his duty to answer me. Though injured, he cannot refuse me thus. His sense of duty and pride does not allow him to do so.

"It is as you say, hir-nin," he replies. He too has switched to the role of captain reporting to commander. I am glad I have gotten a response, but I find no satisfaction in the fact that there is now distance rather than closeness between us. "I have been neglecting my rest."

"When you neglect your need for rest, you put not only yourself but those around you at risk," I say.

"I know," he admits. "I am sorry I have failed in my duties."

"Legolas, tell me why you did this."

He closes his eyes. I think he is dizzy or nauseous or in pain, or all of the above. I know it is unfair of me to question him in his current state. He is not even able to sit up unaided, and he has not had either water or sustenance since he opened his eyes.

"Please," he finally says after the wave passes. "I don't know if I can talk about it now. It—"

He pauses again, breath catching as a wave of pain passes over him.

A healer who has been hovering at the periphery approaches.

"Hir-nin, if I may," she says. "I need to assess Prince Legolas and administer his medicines."

I almost growl at her. I was close to dragging an answer out of my stubborn son, an answer to why he was seemingly intent on getting himself killed. The healer does not wait for my permission, however, before she moves between me and her patient. She bends over him, adjusts his bedding, completes her brief examination, and turns to me again.

"He needs rest, my lord," she states boldly, looking me in the eye. "Although the fever is receding, it would not do to tax him physically or mentally."

How dare she tell me to stand down? I again almost growl at her, but I restrain myself, at least this time. In a way, I admire her boldness and her duty to her patient. She is not afraid of even the Elven-king himself. I nod. She seems satisfied and moves away to prepare teas for Legolas.

I turn to look at Legolas. His eyes are open and intently fixed on me. In his pain and fatigue, his expressions are unguarded, flickering between anger and betrayal. He did not like how I pressed him for answers while he laid defenseless on the bed. I resume my seat next to his bed. Picking up his hand, I try to speak to him again. With a pang, I notice he does not squeeze my hand back, only letting his hand limply lay in mine.

"Legolas, my child," I try again. Perhaps he needs a father more than a king right now. I switch to being a father again. After millennia, I still do not know how to balance the two at times.

He moves a little, and his hand squeezes mine. The betrayed expression is gone, replaced by one I had not seen in him in a long time. It is the same expression he had when he was an elfling, coming to tell his Ada about something that terrified him or was too big for him to handle.

"I felt like I could not rest. Actually, to clarify, I felt like I did not deserve to rest," he confesses.

I resist the urge to argue immediately. Over my years, I have learned as a father to speak less and listen more.

"The spider attack from that patrol, father… I should have foreseen it. I saw there were signs of an active infestation, but I did not deviate from our plan because we needed to scout the area. I thought we would have time before an attack, but I was wrong, and two elves lost their lives."

From what the war minister and the soldiers on his patrol told me, I had suspected as much. Somehow, Legolas blamed himself for the deaths of the two warriors.

"Later, after the attack, I reviewed the scouting reports coming in from the other patrols," he continues. "Others had mentioned more intense activity close to our camp location. If I had gotten those reports beforehand and made a better decision, they would still be alive. I should have been more aware and been a better leader. I told myself I would not make the same mistake again."

"By that, you mean taking every watch you can, and not sleeping?" I prod.

"Well, not when you put it like that," he says.

I see the healer out of the corner of my eye. She is holding a concoction that smells foul even from here. But she pauses, hearing part of our conversation. She can see I am not wrecking emotional distress on her patient anymore, so she waits.

"I just thought if I stayed awake a little longer, worked a little harder, and paid more attention, I could atone for what I did," Legolas says. "But it didn't feel like it was enough. Nothing I did was enough to take away the sting and pain I felt."

"My son," I move to sit on the bed and gather him in my arms. "Too long have you borne this burden when it was not yours to bear. You are not all-powerful or all-knowing. You will make mistakes. But I do not think what you did was a mistake. It was a decision that you regretted only in hindsight, but you could not have known the spiders would attack that day. No one in your position could have known. It is not fair to blame yourself for the forces of evil. You do not have to hurt yourself to honor the memory of your warriors."

"I know," he whispers. "I guess in a way I was punishing myself, and somehow if I punished myself enough, and suffered, I thought I would feel better. I don't know, Ada, my thoughts were all jumbled and it was hard to think. I was so very tired and I didn't know how to trust my own judgment anymore. And I was fearful that I would make another bad decision, when so many were depending on me and my ability to make clear, good decisions. Then when the orc ambush happened, all of a sudden I…"

He abruptly stops and looks at me. This is the most he has talked to me in awhile, and the most he has shared his heart with me in centuries. He catches himself speaking his thoughts out loud to his father, and he is not sure whether he should continue. He starts to tremble, but I do not think he notices.

"Go on, Legolas," I encourage him. "I am here for you."

He decides to keep going.

"When the orc ambush happened, I doubted my ability to fight and to command. What if more warriors were hurt because of me? While I was wavering, an injured orc rose up and—"

Here he gestures at his abdomen.

"Everything was a haze after that. I think my lieutenant killed the orc, and the rest were already slain. They stitched my wound, and I recovered sufficiently to return home under my own power."

"But Ada," he grasps at my arms weakly. "I did not tell you the truth fully. I did not come to the healing halls immediately because I was ashamed of how I acquired my injury. I should have been more aware, and should not have wavered in the midst of battle. I know a moment's hesitation can mean the difference between life and death. It was yet another mistake I made, one that cost me dearly, but at least did not cost the life of another."

"You have put such a great burden on yourself," I sooth him. "I am proud of you and what you have done to defend our land. I do not expect you to be perfect. Those under your command will die, Legolas. Others will be hurt. This is the burden we bear as leaders. But I know those under your command still trust you. They have good reason to trust you. You have the experience, the training, the wisdom, to know what is best. You can make decisions to the best of your abilities. I trust you, my son."

I notice a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"When you are exhausted, doubts rise and confidence falls. Every small emotion becomes magnified. I want you to know, my child, that you do not need to earn rest and respite. After all, do you withhold rest from your warriors for punishment?"

"No, father."

"Then do not withhold it from yourself."

The healer steps forward, because the tea she is holding is now growing cold in her hands.

"The healing draughts, my lord," she offers it to me.

I nod in thanks. I help Legolas to sit up and slowly drink down this awful smelling tea. He head starts to drop but he is fighting it.

"Do not fight this," I tell him as I ease him back on the pillows. "Rest."

He looks up at me. I think he is contemplating the words we just exchanged, but somehow he is not fully convinced.

"Legolas, sleep. It is alright," I tell him again. "You need the rest."

"Are you sure, Ada?" He seems so much younger, looking for reassurance from me. He desperately wants me to answer in the affirmative.

"I am completely sure," I indulge him. I tousle his hair lightly.

Finally, he takes one last look at me and lets his eyes close with a sigh. He does not let go of my hand.

I do not like it when he sleeps with his eyes closed, but I will take this small victory for now. My precious son, safe in my halls. Although he is so much older now, every inch a warrior, he still needs his father once in a while. I hate that it has taken such a hurt and heartache for us to have had this conversation, but I relish these moments when I can still make his world feel better and safer.