At the very same time as some were resting, another, self denuded from sleep by cold plaguing dreams, was labouring in equally cold weather…
        The grey-blue offset of the mountains that evening was inconsiderately nothing in great comparison to the bold thundering of the sky, as bright electrifying sheets of lightening lit up a tall green cloaked figure, leading a meek black horse over the high passes east of Rivendell.
        And as the rain fell heavily in thick stinging pelts against the dripping elf, he cursed again in many a tongue the open and exposed landscape. A whole day of such drastic elements had given Legolas a depressed outlook on his lifely position.
        "Will be it a great and fair tiding the hour I arrive back at my sheltered home," muttered Legolas beneath his breath rather mournfully as he combed a strand of sodden blonde hair off and away from his sodden face.
        And had he said these words out his ever loudest however, there would have been no change in contrast, as any sound was drowned out by the ecstatically wild weather.
The fair young elf had been in a despondently sour and very un-elflike mood from the time of the Elven Councils meeting among the tall, glowing halls of Rivendell.
        Yet another note had the need of passing on, and so Legolas, Eldest son of Thranduil was yet again to be the message bearer of the wise voice of Elrond, the half elven.
        However, in speaking of such and so, Legolas was rather weary of being considered of such. …Of one who has thy not so unique attributed ability of being replaced and disposed of so easily as an arrow tipped carelessly from a full quiver.
        Was he, Elirium Legolas, Son of Thranduil, Elder Prince of the Forest of Mirkwood, and of the nine of the Fellowship of the One Ring, so completely inessential to the fair folk or the elders of his people, hence he was only in sole existence for errands?
        Or had the long ago escape of Smeagol tainted his trustworthy reputation?
        Surely not so, distressed the elf, for I have many a time proven my being since, and righted the wrong done by the getaway of him.
        But so unsure about this was Legolas, that all wrongs took over the rights, and made the bad memories repeat in his worried mind.
        Whether or whether it were not, these obsidiously dark and self-pitying thoughts added to sleep deprived weariness. Otherwise mayhap it were the weather. So dark and foreboding enough by itself that it caused the elf to miss the dark robed, and hooded black shadow that passed by him with great stealth, along the jagged cliffs edge with enough furtiveness, it appeared, to rival even that of the light footed elves. For this reason, elven eyes are the sharpest of them all, but even the best sense may be hindered of blindsaid when the conditions are right. On that account, when Legolas, muttering and squinting from the skies bright and bold assault to his eyes, paid no heed nor took no hindrance from the stealthy unnatural shape moving across land, it was gainsaid herefore, all conditions were deemed right and true.
        And so, the usually exceedingly calm, but now moodily oppressed elven prince traveled straight on by, yet again so sadly wishing a friend were here for a tale or two, to shed this sourly skin.

        Not one single day since the last, nor not quite yet over half had it been since Legolas, placid and eerily silent once again had stepped unto the Royal chambers of his father.
        White haired King Thranduil, of the mountainous forests of Mirkwood sat regally on his brazen harthed and silvery throne. Ornately intricate carvings of many a fine thing decorated the beautiful almost incandescent shimmering surface. So brightly hued was it so, that the smooth bricked walls of rock and hangings perfectly reflected on the extravagant piece, like one's own image may reflect in a still pool.
        The very nearly exhausted and travel worn elf, however, paid this dazzling work none speck of attention, but rather marched somewhat wearily up to the throne of his father, who watched him approach with a delicately upraised eyebrow, all whilst debating heatedly with the tiny Council of the Forest.
        Oh do away with me now, Legolas sighed inwardly, and turned his elven head slightly upward. Father seems to be in one of those moods. Thought on this night, I shall only justly not deal with him, but simply deliver this burden and joyously retire to my warm and luxurious berth, where glorious quiet shall greet me. Though alas, I hope these unspeakable dreams shall be surely rid of.
        Had he thought this to be the truth however, the pale elf was to be sorely mistaken. For when the elven prince had delivered the message, it seemed that he may actually have been able to rest, so as he hadn’t slept for three days. For evil dreams plagued him behind every closed eye, and any rest was hard to come by.
        So he had pressed on, not sleeping nor even dozing, but traveling through all day, rain or shine, and even night. With no peaceful rest of soul and mind.
        But once opened, so seemingly preposterous and silly so was the message to his father, that upon opening, the ridiculousness of it made Thranduil laugh at the very first. Though the wildness in his clear grey eyes did not project or reflect any humour.
        And later on, though not late enough that Legolas was released from his attendance, had the Kind of Mirkwood descended into a barely conceived rage. And the King, so it seemed, in such an anger, used the full and most extensive power of his voice to cry this atrocity to the sky.
        "Hither, whom are he to declare of shalt convey those of Mirkwood into such obvious a ploy? Should I obey this ridiculous request, I shall be deemed as to a peasant myself!" He paused, "How very imbecilic," he carried on. And so Thranduil kept ranting such things, though all words spoken fell unto deaf ears. For Legolas, who had not read the message knew not none of what his father was so affronted about nor did he care. It seemed vastly unimportant and just characteristic to his father's usual temperament.
        So Legolas sat, quietly and reserved in a chair, so plain and small opposite the king's own throne with his cool, grey-brown eyes observing his father's oddly typical changes of mood.
        In fact, the Silvan elf had been doing absolutely nothing but observing his elder’s frame of mind swing dangerously for over three hours or more, and it was with a great understatement spoken, that he were tiring of it. Immensely.
        With truth it were said that the elf was no longer surprised by the great calm patches, or the loud rumbling bellows that dramatically followed. And so used to it he was soon enough, that his mind fell from observation and relative alertness, into a finally peaceful dozing stupor.

        Thranduil turned from the map of his extensive lands to bellow once again at the azure sky. 'Twas then that he noticed his fair son asleep on the tiny chair.
        The great King’s bellowing subsided, and he quietly walked over to the seat on which his son were resting.
        Legolas’ head was lolled forward onto his chest, and soft snores rose and fell rhythmically with each breath. Withholding a gasp at how young, and almost child-like his eldest son look right now, he came to notice finer elemental details of weariness upon his face.
        Dark circles appeared stark against the elf's pale skin. And although and elven face is fair, sleep depravation had caused an almost translucent glow to his features.
        With a soft lament, and a surprisingly kindly warm expression, the elder King gathered up his son in his arms, and carried him down the hall to his chambers, where sleep would surely have more comfort. He did so with a surprising amount of strength for one so aged, and as effortlessly as a full grown man might convey any infant child.
        The servants, whom had previously fled in the midst of the Thranduil’s rage, returned now, and warily approached with a transport litter. Thranduil shook his head with an almost imperceptible smile, and carried on walking, leaving the servants behind, baffled by his yet again unpredictable dispositions.