“I remember when he was just a boy,” Thranduil sighed his eyes rolling slightly as he nodded toward the gated doorway.
        One of the king’s attendants strutted ahead of the Evlish Lord, gracefully moving, making an attempt to be undaunted by the sounds coming from behind closed doors. Moans, giggles, hushed whispers and mumbles all came nearly unfiltered through the doors and thin walls of the elegant tree house. Thranduil stepped along easily urging his attendant forward to open the doors. The silence from within struck the moment the fingers of the attendant slung open the exterior gate for he and the King to pass through.
        “Sir,” the attendant gulped slowly fearing the result of what he was about to say, “Are you certain you wish to send Legolas forth to the fellowship. Perhaps another, any other of your children, to be precise?”
        Thranduil kept his expression even, suppressing a glare to reward the question of his judgment. He nodded ahead for the door to Legolas’ abode to be opened. The servant bowed understanding the answer to his insipid line of questioning.
        “He outshines all others with his skill, despite his,” Thranduil coughed lightly to avoid a snicker, “other activities,”
        The door swung open allowing Thranduil to stand in the midst of the entryway looking inside the room and at his youngest son, Legolas, reclined on an unusually large bed. The silvery patterned sheets and spreads lay in neat order and the elf was resting atop them reclined against the frame, holding a book, appearing at complete ease and leisure. He looked up as if pleasantly surprised at his father’s sudden appearance.
        “Father,” Legolas smiled sweetly, setting the hardbound volume down at his side.
        Thranduil raised an eyebrow, before returning the greeting. He advanced two steps cocking his head to the side. The same blonde hair hung from his head as it did his son, only he lacked the inviting braids to the side. He preferred straight hair hanging at the sides of his face, bound thrice by bands. Lord Elrond had introduced him to the style years before. He took a once over of the room, his features of a thirty-year-old earth man, feigning to look keen. Once again his eyes fell on his son, the face of which screamed the epitome of innocence.
        “And a good evening to you as well, my son,” Thranduil returned face shadowing a slight bit as he continued abruptly, “I will come straight to the point, Legolas. I require your services on behalf of Mirkwood. Evil is brewing in Mordor as you know and since our forces here have lost track of the creature Gollum, another hard blow has been struck against the free peoples of Middle Earth,”
        Legolas nodded, facial expression unchanged, watching with an attentive stare as his father took three steps deeper into his room. He stiffened watching his father begin to take seat on the edge of the bed where he, himself sat.
        “A council has been called together at Rivendell by Lord Elrond, concerning a matter very important to all peoples. I’ve elected to send you in my place. You know my heart and my wishes very well and you are the most skilled with a bow in all of this forest,”
        Legolas nodded his eyes staying tightly locked with his fathers. Two pools of blue mirroring each other it seemed.
        “Take two attendants of your choosing. Be swift, Lord Elrond says time is of the essense, which means only one thing, my son,”
        “Man is in danger of death by some horrific and timely fate,” Legolas guessed deadpan, never one to hold back pleasantries when talking candidly to his own father.
        “Precisely,” Thranduil smiled at his son’s keen logic, much like his own.
        “It will be an early start, do not linger too long when morning’s first light makes itself known,” Thranduil bade standing from his seat on the edge of the bed, “You’ll most likely see your friend, that ‘son of man’ Strider there, isn’t that what you call him. The one you brought here a few years ago?”
        Legolas eyes lit up momentarily before he remembered he had questions still.
        “Father, what exactly is this council going to convene on. I mean, what is this all about?”
        Thranduil’s face turned grave, “IT has been found,”
        The words hung so simple and effortless, yet conveyed a great meaning. A meaning greater than Legolas felt able to properly process in the coming minutes, but felt at ease to process over a length of time, which he obviously had. He watched solemnly as his father turned from him, taking quick graceful steps from his room.
        “Be well, I know this is a heavy burden, but one you, I’m certain, can assume duty of,”
        Legolas stared ahead, giving a slight nod, as he reached for his book once more, this time, shutting it. The attendant waited for Thranduil to completely clear the way of the double doors before he began to close them, bathing the room back into solitude. Before the task could be complete, Thranduil turned abruptly, catching Legolas complete and somewhat shocked attention.
        “And for the sake of your brothers below you, make sure Mormegil, Joy, Ambrosia and Penelope get home at a decent hour,”
        Legolas eyes went wide and Thranduil could have sworn he saw the young elf’s ears twitch momentarily. Legolas’ lips parted leaving his mouth a bit open as he sputtered.
        “I do not know to what you are referring,” Legolas immediately squeaked in defense.
        “Surely, even YOU my oddest of children, do not read volumes upside down as a means for leisure,” Thranduil replied with a smirk having made well with his teasing.
        Legolas immediately averted his gaze from his father’s, finding anything more inviting to gaze at during the moment, especially his own bare feet. The doors began to swing shut once more and Thranduil turned away from the room. He began his stride all the while stifling a chuckle at the predicament of catching Legolas in the act of hiding away his Harem and under that excessively large bed no less.
        “Father! You forgot about Anne!” Legolas called after him, obviously mending his embarrassment to find humor in it all as well.
        Thranduil let out a low chuckle waiting for his attendant to catch up with him.
        “Yes, it’s easy to remember him as a boy, even with two thousand years distance between such times,” Thranduil sighed, “What with that innocence and wit,”
        “Not to mention dashing good looks sire,” the attendant chimed in, before looking away to avoid the confused stare of the king.
        “Yes, that too I imagine,”