Warm Memories

The first snowfall following the War of the Ring came with a vengeance to the Elven realm of Eryn Lasgalen, previously known as Mirkwood. Massive, grey clouds shed their vast loads of snow upon the wood as shrill winds whipped the snow into a torrent of icy flakes that blasted through the now-barren trees. It was as though the defeated spirit of Sauron had issued forth one final time to vent his frustrated fury on the forest that held his former fortress of Dol Guldur. Indeed, the blizzard had succeeded in chasing the wood-elves from their preferred homes, talans high in the trees, and had driven them to seek shelter inside the underground caverns that housed the Royal Palace, as well as the storehouses of food, King Thranduil's collection of gems and fine wines, and the seldom-used but oft-rumored-about dungeons.

However, despite this forced relocation, the storm had utterly failed to dampen the spirits of the jubilant Elves. Preparations were now in full swing leading up to the feast celebrating the Winter Solstice on the morrow, and the destruction of the One Ring only added to the cause for joy. The halls of Eryn Lasgalen echoed with the merry strains of song as Elves bustled about, hanging holiday decorations, polishing silver, and preparing delicacies for the feast. A smile was visible upon every face...save one.

King Thranduil stood gazing out the frosted window in his private study, watching the storm that raged outside. A crackling fire blazed in the hearth, casting a golden glow upon the room, but the cheery warmth brought him no comfort. The songs echoing in the halls brought him no joy. How could they, when his reason for happiness and celebration had been absent from his life for so long? Sighing, the Elf Lord turned from the window and silently crossed the polished hardwood and plush green rugs that covered the floor of his study. He settled himself behind the broad oaken desk and, ignoring the maps and documents of state that covered the desktop, reached into the top desk drawer. In a moment, his hand withdrew, clutching a sheet of folded parchment, its edges yellowed and fraying from obvious overhandling. With a smooth motion that spoke of much practice, Thranduil unfolded the paper and glanced at the contents of the letter, written in the elegant hand of his son.

Dearest Adar,

I hope this letter finds you well. I regret that you had to learn from someone other than myself of my decision to accompany the hobbit Frodo on his Quest. I also apologize for disobeying your order to return home after delivering the news of the creature Gollum's escape to the Council at Imladris. I know what you would say, that as your son, my first duty is to return home and defend the borders of Mirkwood in these dark times. However, I feel it is important that you understand the reasons behind my choice.

Lord Elrond has decreed that the Company shall consist of Nine Walkers, to match the Nine Riders from Mordor: Mithrandir, four hobbits, two men, a dwarf (imagine that!), and an Elf. One single Elf, to represent all our kind! You cannot imagine my shock when Lord Elrond chose me to be that Elf. It is an enormous honor, both for myself and for Mirkwood, and one I cannot take lightly, nor refuse.

Also, it is my belief that I can accomplish more to protect Mirkwood by joining this Fellowship than I could by returning home. At home, my bow would be but one among the many hundreds that defend our borders. However, as part of this Company, my skills may contribute enough to make a difference in the success of our mission. I will do anything in my power to prevent the shadow of Sauron from covering our world in darkness. I love our home, Adar, but I can defend it best by defending all of Middle-earth.

Ada, I do hope you will be able to forgive me. Your little Greenleaf has grown up and must follow his heart, though I hope that my choice does not cause you too much pain. I shall strive to bring honor to you and to Mirkwood, that you may be proud of me when I return. I give you all of my love, always.

Your loving son,
Legolas

Just as he finished rereading through the message, a knock sounded upon the door. Thranduil blinked, then swallowed back his emotions as he refolded the letter with trembling hands and replaced it back in the drawer he had taken it from. He quickly smoothed any wrinkles from the folds of his emerald green robes, then reached up to ensure that the circlet of holly remained properly in place upon his golden tresses before calling out, "Enter."

The door to his study swung open to reveal a smiling female Elf with dark hair, dressed in a simple flowing gown of pale blue. "Good evening, My Lord," she greeted. "I apologize for disturbing you, but I've brought you something to eat, as well as news that the preparations for tomorrow evening's festivities are now complete." With this, she placed upon his desk a silver tray laden with fruit, freshly baked sweets, and a goblet of Thranduil's favorite wine.

"Hannon le, Elenneth." Thranduil kept his carefully practiced mask of authority in place as he thanked the woman who had faithfully served his family since before Legolas was born. The mask slipped briefly, however, when he noticed the identity of the baked goods that had been included on the tray. Honey cakes. They had always been a favorite treat of Legolas. He glanced up at Elenneth, who did not miss the flash of longing in the King's eyes.

"The Shadow in Mordor has been defeated. Legolas will come home soon, My Lord." Her soft green eyes met his blue orbs in a look of shared hope. "You shall see." A wicked grin crossed her face as she continued, "And knowing that son of yours, we won't be able to keep him away from the honey cakes for long, so you had best enjoy your share while you can!"

Upon hearing her words, Thranduil could not help but chuckle, and a small but genuine smile crept onto his face. He took a sip of wine, then relaxed back in his chair as he recalled a certain particularly interesting, and in retrospect quite amusing event in his young son's life. Satisfied that she had succeeded in lifting his spirits somewhat, Elenneth bowed her head in parting and silently slipped out the door, leaving her King to his memories.

Several hundred years ago, on the eve before a Winter Solstice long past...

Thranduil leaned against the doorframe and watched the utterly charming scene taking place in the palace kitchens. Amidst the hustle and bustle of the massive preparations for this year's Winter Solstice feast, seemingly undisturbed by the large groups of busy chattering Elves rushing to and fro, his wife Eluviel was attempting to teach Legolas how to bake honey cakes.

Their little Greenleaf, only 6 years old, already shared his mother's secret fondness for desserts and sweet treats. Only in Legolas's case, the fondness was not so secret; the elfling had already consumed nearly the entire supply of honey cakes the cooks had prepared for the celebration. How the youngster had not ended up with a stomachache was a mystery to both his parents. The resulting impromptu cooking lesson served two purposes: to replenish the supply of honey cakes so that the other elves might enjoy the holiday treats, and to attempt to teach Legolas a little bit about responsibility and sharing.

Like everything he did, Legolas took his new task very seriously. Standing on a stepstool that Eluviel had placed near the table, the elfling watched his mother set out the ingredients necessary for the baking of the honey cakes. Eluviel then pulled her long, honey-blonde hair back out of her face and secured it there with a brown silk ribbon that matched her plain dress, chosen for its suitability for the nearly inevitable messiness that results when children get their hands upon food. She then turned to her son and in her gentle, melodious voice, began to explain to him the purpose and amounts of each ingredient. Legolas listened to the lesson so intently he bit his lower lip in concentration, his expression so comically serious that Thranduil was forced to raise a hand to his mouth in order to stifle his amusement and keep from disturbing the pair.

However, as with all elflings, Legolas could only maintain that level of concentration for so long. After watching his mother combine honey, nuts, and an assortment of sugar and spices in a bowl, he suddenly burst out "I want to put the flour in, Naneth! Can I? Please?" He turned pleading blue eyes upon his mother, who laughed merrily and agreed.

"Yes, nin ion, you may add the flour now." Legolas clapped his hands together and began bouncing up and down in place. Eluviel smiled at her son's enthusiasm and made to move the bowl of flour closer to the edge of the table so that Legolas's shorter arms would more easily reach it.

However, her energetic son was way ahead of her. He suddenly lunged for the bowl...too quickly. What followed happened almost too quickly for Thranduil to process.

As Legolas made his grab for the flour, he realized that the bowl was a bit further away than he had first thought, and so pushed himself up further across the table. As his fingers grasped the lip of the bowl, the stool, which had shifted during his jumping, became completely unbalanced with Legolas's final lunge and fell out from under the elfling. Now devoid of support, Legolas fell backwards and hit the floor with a small thump, his little rump breaking the fall. The bowl of flour tumbled end over end, finally coming to rest upside-down next to the princeling. The contents of the bowl, however, covered the elfling from head to toe.

Shocked silence fell in the kitchen as all activity came to a halt. All gazes settled on Legolas in hopes that the Prince had not been injured. Thranduil started to move toward his son, preparing to comfort him should he burst into tears suddenly. Before he could take more than two steps, however, his son moved...or rather, his son's little nose twitched and Legolas burst out not with tears, but with sneezes. "iiisSHHH! hi-ISHHH! Hehh...heshhh! Hhiiihh...hiihh...ISHHHH!!"

With each sneeze, the elfling's small body lurched forward, the motion dislodging a white cloud of flour. "ishhtchh! Heeihhshh! EehhSHHH!" Legolas had never experienced anything like this before. The tickling in his nose was fierce, and his body seemed to have a will of its own as it forced him to take great gasping breaths, during which he only inhaled even more floating particles, before snapping him forward again with another harsh sneeze. "huhhISHHH! Heh..hhuhhITSCHHH! ishhh! ISHHH!! ISHHH! hiihhISHH!!"

Utterly amazed by the viciously strong sneezes coming from his small son, Thranduil instantly realized that Legolas needed help to end this uncontrollable fit. Grabbing several kitchen towels, he knelt before his sneezing child and quickly wiped the bulk of the flour from Legolas's face and body. He then picked up Legolas and settled him in his strong arms, providing the elfling with comfort. Legolas snuggled into his father's chest briefly, before again raising his head as his nostrils flared and the uncontrollable urge to sneeze came upon him once again. "iisshhhh! Ada, I cahhh hihhhSHH! I cahh...can't stop sneeehhh...hihuhh.. HehhhESSHHH!"

Eluviel now approached her husband and son, handkerchief in hand. Gently placing the handkerchief over her son's nose, she urged him to blow, and he complied. For a short time, a look of relief came over his young face, before he quickly pushed his nose toward the handkerchief his mother was holding and sneezed again. "iiishhmppph!"

Finally, Legolas settled back down in his father's arms, sniffling every few seconds. Thranduil could tell that was not the last of the sneezes Legolas would give, but no more were immediately forthcoming. They had gained a small reprieve which he would use to his advantage. "Peace, Legolas. Ada will take care of you." Turning to his wife, he said, "I'm going to give him a bath, get the rest of the flour off his body and out of his hair."

Eluviel nodded in agreement. "I'll take care of this mess," she gestured to the ingredients for the honey cakes, now spilled haphazardly across the table and floor, "and then I'll be along in a minute with clean clothes...for both of you." Thranduil looked confused for a moment before he realized that the entire front of his robes were now matted with flour from his son's clothing. He nodded and then carried Legolas straight to the bathing chamber adjacent to his bedchamber.

Thranduil set Legolas down on a towel and began to run a bath. As he extended a hand into the water to test the temperature, he heard Legolas sniffle hard and turned to watch his son as his small nose twitched and he took in a few unsteady, hitching breaths before his mouth dropped open and he released a few more itchy- sounding sneezes into the handkerchief. "hii...hihhuhh... hi..hii..hiISHmmppfh! ISHmmppph!"

Relieved that his son's sneezes seemed much less desperate and forceful this time, Thranduil helped him blow his nose again, then divested Legolas of his soiled clothing before removing his own. "Into the bath, my sneezy little Greenleaf!" he laughed, picking up his son and carrying him into the large tub. The warm water seemed to calm Legolas, and by the time Thranduil had washed all the last remnants of the flour from his son's hair and body, Legolas was nearly his old self again.

Legolas giggled, splashing water at his father, seemingly untroubled by a few lingering sniffles. "itchhh! *sniff* Got you, Ada!"

"Indeed, you did, sniffly one. However, your father still has a few tricks up his sleeve." Legolas squealed with laughter as his father picked him up out of the water, flew him over his head like a bird, and then plunked him down into the tub again with a gigantic SPLASH!

Legolas laughed with delight, then turned aside quickly as his little nose tickled again, this time in an effort to rid itself of the water the elfling had accidentally gotten up his nose. He sniffled a few times and then let out three final sneezes. "hiisshhh! Hehshhh! Ishh!" He then followed the sneezes up with a wide yawn.

Taking that as his cue, Thranduil pulled a drowsy Legolas from the bath, dried him, and dressed him in the sleep outfit Eluviel had left by the edge of the tub. He carried Legolas to his bed, tucked him under the warm covers, and placed a tender kiss to his son's brow. As he made to pull away, Legolas flung his small arms around his father's neck and hugged him tight. "I'm sorry I ruined the honey cakes...and I'm sorry I ate all the ones before. I won't do it again." Then, he brightened, as though a cloud that had passed across the sun was gone again. "Thanks for helping me, Ada. I want to grow up to be big and strong and help people just like you do!" He yawned again, and his arms began to relax their grip around Thranduil's neck as Legolas began to drift to sleep. Right before he succumbed to sleep completely, Legolas gave a soft sigh and mumbled "I love you, Ada."

Thranduil came out of his reverie feeling wistful, but much more at peace with himself. He still missed Legolas enough to make his heart ache within his chest, but he had found some comfort in his memories. For now, that was enough to see him through his uncertainty over Legolas's fate. Tomorrow, he would be able to pull himself together and lead the Winter Solstice festival in a manner befitting the King of Eryn Lasgalen.

Standing by the window, Thranduil gazed once again at the blizzard which still raged outside. Was it his imagination, or were the winds starting to lessen in force? For the second time that day, however, his thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Expecting to see Elenneth coming to collect his barely-touched tray of food, he called out "Enter!"

The door swung open just as before, but the figure standing in the doorway was most definitely not Elenneth. This figure was taller, definitely male, cloaked in dusky grey-green, and utterly soaked with snow. Ice clung around the edges of the hood where the being's breath had crystallized in the cold air, and melting snow formed a dripping puddle around the being's feet. A bow and quiver of Lothlorien make were strapped to his back. A wisp of hair peeked out from underneath the soggy hood...the hair was blond.

Thranduil took a trembling step forward, then another. His heart took but an instant to tell him what his head was still having difficulty processing. "Legolas?" he asked tentatively.

"Adar!" Legolas Greenleaf tossed back the hood of the sodden cloak, then hurled himself into his father's arms. Months of anxiety for both elves melted away after a few moments of shared embrace. No further words were spoken, for none were needed. Their love and joy spoke for them.

Outside, the blizzard slowly died down until no clouds remained. The rising sun, peeking up over the horizon, spreading its rays to glitter upon the crystals of fresh snow. It would be a beautiful Winter Solstice.