Okay, a quick little introduction. I’m an Aussie girl, through and through. And yes, there is a story behind the musical_gerbil thing. Not to worry. This is my first piece that I’m posting on here, so please be gentle with the reviews. If it’s constructive, I’ve got no problem with it.

This is just a little viggie, inspired by Eric Clapton and his song Tears in Heaven. The story behind the song; altered, and adapted to a father/son pair and family that I am currently in love with. Quite literally in love with, I mean. Anyways, the lyrics and name Tears in Heaven belong to Eric Clapton, and the main characters, plus any recognisable ones, belong to Tolkien, the Master that he is. The others are mine. Tolkien is probably rolling in his grave as I write this. *I’m sorry! I swear, its all my muse’s fault! She sits in her little cave under my bed and makes me write these terrible things!*

Very angsty, and there might be a few Kleenex moments. It may be a bit confusing, but I’ll leave an AN at the bottom for an explanation. AU, but only in the sense of the events prior to and after the Fellowship. See AN at the bottom.

Please read and review! Sharing is caring! Flames will be used to roast marshmallows and feed them to my evil muse, because she is the one that came up with this!

Oh, and also, if I got some words wrong in the ear song, please point them out. I’ve been singing it like this my whole life so yeah… feel free to correct me.

//Flashbacks//

Anywho… onto the story!

Tears in Heaven

The elven-warrior let out a cry that made the very earth tremble.

Would you know my name,
If I saw you in heaven?

The tiny, golden-haired elfling’s face was a picture of shocked innocence as the thick, black-shafted arrow pierced right through his small torso. His own small, but still deadly, arrow, was released and pierced the orc that had shot the arrow clean in the throat. A strangled gasp escaped the elfling’s mouth, to be mostly lost amidst the cacophony of the battle. “Ada!”

The elven-warrior’s next cry was one of anguish as the tiny elfling teetered on the branch and then fell, crashing towards the ground. He dashed into the path of the falling elfling and caught him, swinging him in to cradle closely against his chest.

Bright blue eyes filled with tears met his. “It- it hurts, Ada…” the tiny elfling whimpered, a tiny blackwood bow clutched in the small hands. “I know, tithen-pen,” the elven-warrior said soothingly, silent tears streaming down his face. “I know.” “C- can… can you make it stop, Ada?”

The weak, desperate plea tore the elven-warrior apart inside.

Would it be the same,
If I saw you in heaven?

The battle had finished, and the elven-warrior was kneeling in the middle of the carnage, cradling his elfling. “Hush, tithen-pen nîn,” he murmured, stroking the sweaty, feverish forehead. “I know it hurts.” “I- I’m trying to be strong… Ada…” the elfling said, his small face scrunching up in pain. “I- I’m trying… but it hurts…” “I know,” the elven-warrior said softly. “I know you’re in pain, but you must be strong.”

He reached into the pouch at his hip and withdrew a small vial of a clear liquid. “Open your mouth, tithen-pen,” he instructed gently. The elfling obeyed and the elven-warrior tipped half the contents of the bottle into the open mouth. He rubbed the small throat, aiding in the process of swallowing.

“King Thranduil!” a warrior cried. “We must reach Imladris as fast as we can! More yrch come!”

The small elfling was whimpering in agony and Thranduil was desperately trying to stay calm and composed. “Stay with me, tithen calen-lass nîn,” he said shakily as he spurred his stallion on. “You must stay with me.” “Aaadaa…” the little prince moaned. “Saes… make it stop!” A choked sob escaped the Elvenking’s throat.

Blood was soaking both elves, and the stallion too. The tiny elf’s heart was unknowingly pumping his life away, despite the clotting that the liquid was encouraging. Thranduil begged the stallion to run faster. Most of the elves that had accompanied him were trailing behind, their mounts not as strong as the king’s.

// Oh, Valar, be merciful! // The king’s silent plea to the heavens was from the very bottom of his soul. // Do not take him from me! //

“Ada…”

The weak whisper caused the king to stop his frantic pleas and open his eyes. The tiny prince’s arctic blue eyes were half-closed and his lips were parted slightly. A thin rivulet of blood was running from the corner of his mouth and dripping off his chin.

“Legolas!” Thranduil choked out. The half-lidded eyes focused dimly on his face. “Ada… it- it doesn’t… hurt… ‘nemore…” the quiet, weak voice whispered. “S’that s’posed t’ happen?” The glow that constantly surrounded him was both dimming, yet growing brighter with every passing second. It frightened Thranduil more than he thought.

Thranduil knew exactly what was happening. Exactly what the Valar were doing. The same thing had happened with his father, Oropher. He lay, dying, in Thranduil’s arms at the end of the battle at the Black Gate, and he too, had felt no pain at the end.

I must be strong.

The pair of white-handled mithril knives that were still in their scabbards caught Thranduil’s eye. He also noticed that the small quiver, half-full with small, but still deadly arrows, had miraculously managed to stay on his son’s back. “Tithen calen-lass,” he said, concentrating on keeping his voice steady despite the vicious trembling that was threatening to take him over. “I need you to do something for me.”

Legolas nodded slightly. “Okay… Ada…” he whispered. “I need you to concentrate on my voice,” Thranduil instructed firmly. “I need you to focus on me, and nothing else. Not even how tired you are. Do you understand?” The elfling nodded. “Y- yes, Ada…”

Thranduil pleaded with his stallion to go as fast as he could. From his surroundings, he could tell that they were only about an hour away from Imladris, it was growing ever darker, and he knew that Elrond was the only one that could help Legolas. He began to babble, his terror finally catching up with him. “You earned your adult warrior braids today, did you know that? That means you can have the two braids tied back with the top half of your hair, just like Lord Glorfindel and the twins do. Do you remember Glorfindel? The Balrog Slayer that we met in Imladris? He taught you some fighting techniques when we visited there last, didn’t he?”

“Are we going… to visit… Uncle Elrond… and… the twins?” Legolas asked quietly. “Yes,” Thranduil said, forcing his voice to stay steady. “And Aunt Celebrian too. She’s in Imladris for the spring this year, with Arwen. Do you remember Arwen?” Legolas nodded weakly. “Sh- she gave me… a- a little… box of sweets…” he murmured. Thranduil smiled slightly at his son. “I’ll have to see if she has another one box of sweets for you this visit, won’t I?” he said. “You’re being very brave, and a very good elfling. Maybe I can arrange for two boxes of sweets for you!”

Legolas’ face was rapidly growing paler, but a slight sparkle lit in his eyes and his lips twitched. “Two boxes?” he asked, wonder in his eyes. Thranduil nodded exaggeratedly. “I- I’ll give one… box… to Nana… and the baby when-when it is born…” the elfling decided. “A- and share mine… with Leithion an’ Lithron…” “That’s very kind of you,” Thranduil said, smiling down at him. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

Legolas hissed in pain as the stallion stumbled slightly over a rock. Thranduil stopped the horse and cast a look around as the rest of his party came to a halt around him. “Find the path down into the valley!” he ordered. The elves scattered. “We’re almost there, Legolas,” he said comfortingly. “Uncle Elrond and Ada are going to make it all better, I promise.”

The hero-worship evident in the half-closed, sleepy eyes tore Thranduil apart inside.

What have I done to warrant such unwavering love and respect? he thought, anguished. Why does he worship me so when I could not even keep him safe?

“Here!” an elf shouted and Thranduil gently manoeuvred his son off of the horse. “Can you stand for a moment, ion?” he asked. The young prince nodded weakly and Thranduil, although nearly already undone by anguish, had the presence of mind to stand him next to a tree so he could lean against it. As it was, his thin legs buckled and he fell. Thranduil caught him just in time. He scooped his son into his arms and sprinted down the hidden path.

Elrond met them at the entrance to the main building, his glow more evident in the darkness than ever. “Quickly,” was his only remark. Thranduil followed his brother-in-law swiftly. “Suilad… uncle…” Legolas said weakly. Thranduil marvelled at his son’s remembering to be polite even though he was so severely wounded. Elrond offered a smile to his nephew. “Suilad nîn to you as well, my nephew,” he said as he threw open the doors to his private healing chambers and went around the room quickly, lighting the candles. “What is this I see? You have your first warrior’s braids?” Legolas managed a slight nod as Thranduil rested him on his side on the bed. “A-ada says I… I can have my- my adult… braids… now,” he whispered. Elrond cast an overly dramatic look at Thranduil for Legolas’ benefit.

“Whatever did you do to deserve those?” he asked. Thranduil smiled brightly, even though his eyes were sad. “He was magnificently brave, Lord Elrond,” he said seriously and Legolas giggled weakly. “We were ambushed by orcs and he scaled a tree and had already shot down six before I was even turned around!” “You exaggerate, surely!” Elrond said, pretending to fall over halfway through gathering an armful of herbs. Legolas giggled weakly again. Thranduil pretended to consider for a moment. “Okay, so he only shot one down while we prepared for the fight,” he allowed. “But he shot down many more during the siege. Why, his quiver was a little less than half-full when the battle ended!” Elrond gave an exaggerated gasp as he grabbed several tools.

“Now, I am going to put a wad of cloth in your mouth, Legolas,” Elrond explained. “I want you to bite down on it as hard as it hurts when I start fixing this, okay?” Legolas nodded, but Thranduil shook his head. “No, tithen-pen,” he instructed Legolas. “I am going to put my hand in instead of the cloth, and you bite down on it. It will hurt you less,” he lied.

I need to experience even a fraction of your pain, Thranduil thought.

Legolas looked slightly aghast. “Bu… but Ada…” he whispered. “I- I do not… want to… hurt you…” “You will not hurt me, ion nîn,” Thranduil said softly. He placed the fleshiest part of his hand, the thumb area, into his son’s mouth. Elrond quickly snapped the shaft in two and the jolt sent new pain rushing through the elfling’s previous numb body. He loosed a hiss of pain, but did not bite down. “Legolas, bite down!” Thranduil pleaded. “Please! You must!”

Elrond drew the fletched part of the shaft out slowly and Legolas cried out before clamping down with his teeth, his face scrunched up in agony. Thranduil relished the pain that came from his hand. Elrond gave up on being slow and meticulous and wrenched the other half of the shaft out, a tear springing to his eye as his nephew writhed in agony and his brother-in-law trembled with fright. “Hush, ion nîn,” Thranduil said soothingly.

Elrond quickly stripped the elfling of his tunic and had to swallow back a gasp when he saw the tiny torso. Drenched with blood, some dried but some still wet, the child was as white as a snow-drift, prominent veins protruding and bruising evident around the ugly wound that was far too close to vital organs for Elrond to be optimistic about survival.

“I need Glorfindel and the twins,” he said, mostly to himself. “Arwen and Celebrian too. Thranduil, calm him, and bathe the wound with warm water, then bandage it. There is some in that pot over the fire. I will be back momentarily.”

The raven-haired Elf-Lord all but ran from the room.

And carry on.

Thranduil slowly slid his hand from his son’s mouth. The skin was broken, bruised and bleeding. He didn’t care. He filled a small bowl with warm water, tossed several mild pain-killing herbs into it and began to clean the wound that gaped in his son’s torso gently. He wiped away the dry, clotted blood, and then covered both sides of the wound with thick squares of cloth, then secured them with a long strip of white linen. Legolas was whimpering and trembling and Thranduil instinctively gathered him into his arms gently. Legolas’ pale face was sweaty and feverish. His half-lidded eyes were weakly roving around until they focused on Thranduil’s face. “Ada…” he whimpered. “Hurts… make it stop… saes!” Thranduil broke into tears, the crystal droplets running down his face.

“Amin hiraetha… Ada…” Legolas whispered, his eyes widening slightly. “Don’t cry… saes…”

“No, don’t be sorry!” Thranduil half-sobbed. “I- I just love you so much… it hurts me inside to see you in pain!” Legolas’ tiny, cold, blood-stained hand found his father’s. He squeezed.

“I- I’m okay, Ada,” he said bravely. “Don’t be sad.” Thranduil smiled weakly through his tears.

“You’re so brave and beautiful, you know that?” he said, wiping his eyes quickly. “You’re my beautiful, brave, strong little Greenleaf.” A small smile twitched at the little prince’s mouth.

Six elves barrelled into the room.

Thranduil started slightly, and gently rested his son back on the bed. He still held the tiny hand in his. Two elf-maidens bolted towards the bed. “Oh, darling!” Celebrian exclaimed, her hand covering her mouth. She quickly caught herself before she frightened him. “My, you have grown!” Arwen gently took her little cousin in her arms and hugged him. “I have missed you, tithen-pen,” she whispered. Her loose, unbound hair fluttered around the elfling’s face and he blew at it to get it away. Arwen gave a choked laugh and released him, setting him back down on his side.

Elladan and Elrohir knelt down on the side he was facing. “This is an odd place to be visiting, cousin,” Elrohir commented. “Why the healing chambers and not the weaponry or the kitchens? The stables even? The healing chambers are ever so dreary and boring!”

“A- ada brought me here…” Legolas murmured, his eyes glazing slightly. “An’ my ches’ feels funny… all achy an’ wet ‘nside…”

“Adar told us that you killed orcs!” Elladan said excitedly, playing up his reactions to keep his young cousin focused on him. “And that you’re getting your adult warrior braids once you’re better!” Legolas managed a dim nod.

“J- jus’ like you… ‘n ‘Ro…” he murmured, his eyes closing slowly.

“LEGOLAS THRANDUILLION!” Elrond barked. All of the elves assembled started. The elfling’s eyes shot open and then drifted back to their half-open state. “You must stay awake,” the healer said firmly. “Do you understand? You must not sleep yet.”

Legolas blinked sleepily. “T… tired…” he mumbled.

“I know you’re tired, darling,” Celebrian said, kneeling down in front of him and cupping his small face in her hands. “I know you want to sleep, but you have to stay awake for a bit longer. How about the twins tell you some stories? How does that sound? And we can get Haldir to come and say hello and tell some stories too. Okay?” Legolas looked slightly confused.

“Bu- but everyone’s… sleepin’…” he said bemusedly. Elladan laughed, trying to make it sound real. “It just means we have an excuse to get back at him for the time he dumped a whole lot of worms on us one morning,” he explained. The elfling looked even more confused.

“Don’t worry,” Arwen reassured her cousin. “Haldir won’t mind. He likes you. Do you remember when we all slept beside the river when we visited Lórien? He taught you how to shoot two arrows at once, and you taught him how to catch a frog. Remember?” Legolas nodded dimly.

‘Cause I know I don’t belong.

Elladan raced off down the hallway, Elrohir at his heels. “Sweet Valar,” he whispered fiercely, trying to stop the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. They stopped before a door. Elrohir’s hand on his shoulder was all that kept him from collapsing in a heap on the ground. As it was, a choked sob left his throat and he all but fell into Elrohir’s arms, hitting the door with his boot by accident. The door swung open seconds later and a fully alert Haldir, in the midst of throwing on his bathrobe, almost crashed into the twins. The blonde elf from the Golden Wood swore under his breath. “What in the name of Elbereth is going on?” he demanded. He then saw the tears running down both of their faces.

“I- it’s Legolas!” Elrohir choked out. “H- he… I think he’s dying… I think he was shot by the orcs that must have ambushed them… Adar won’t let him go to sleep, and we have to keep him entertained and Naneth said to come get you because he liked you when we came to Lórien a few years ago… and he’s so pale and cold and he’s not talking properly an… and he- he’s so small and young… and we can see that Thranduil’s terrified, he was crying, and Adar’s scared…” Haldir slipped around the twins, shut his door and bolted towards the healing rooms. Elladan and Elrohir dashed after him.

When they reached the healing room, Haldir was already kneeling beside the elfling that he had become more attached to during that fateful visit to Lórien than he cared to admit, and telling a rather embarrassing story about the twins and Legolas’ own elder brothers. Glorfindel was preparing several foul-smelling mixtures and Elrond was carefully monitoring his nephew’s vital signs. He was growing visibly distressed as the twins knelt down either side of Haldir and were adding their own comments to the story.

Legolas’ eyes were drifting closed again. “Legolas!” Elrond said sharply but the elfling didn’t respond. Thranduil began trembling.

“Legolas!” Glorfindel shouted, clapping his hands loudly beside the tiny ear. There was still no reaction.

“LEGOLAS!” Elrond roared and the small elf jolted, his eyes flickering half-open again. The sound of light footsteps echoed in the silence and there were hushed voices whispering outside of the door. “Glorfindel, go and get the gossips away from the door and to their rooms,” Elrond commanded, his voice low and dangerous. Thranduil reached once more for his son’s small hand as Glorfindel slipped silently from the room.

“Legolas, please stay awake,” he whispered softly. “Please. You must stay awake. Stay awake for me and for your Nana and for Lithron and for Leithion and for the new baby too.” Legolas was looking steadily more confused.

“Ada…” he whimpered.

“I’m here, ion nîn,” Thranduil said comfortingly. “We’re here. Uncle Elrond, Aunt Celebrian, Arwen, the twins, Haldir, Glorfindel… we’re all here with you and we’re going to make it better.” He suddenly heard Glorfindel’s voice rise in an angry yell. The Balrog-Slayer came back into the room a moment later, nursing the knuckles of his right hand.

“Arrogant, human nobles,” he muttered as way of explanation. “Thinks he can demand to see whoever he likes whenever he likes, even though it was all a ruse to see what the shouting is about. Son of yrch.” Elrond allowed an exasperated smile.

“All business can wait until this pen-neth here is better,” he said sternly.

Legolas gave a drowsy smile. “Wha’… what’s wrong with me?” he asked. Elrond sucked in a deep breath.

“Wait just a moment, tithen-pen,” he said and dragged the subtly resisting Thranduil towards the basins. “He doesn’t know he’s been shot?” he said.

“I- I don’t know…” Thranduil whispered brokenly, his anguished eyes locking with Elrond’s. “Please… please don’t let him go… don’t let him leave me… I- I need him… Navielle and Lithron and Leithion will never forgive me…”

“This is not your fault!” Elrond snapped at his brother-in-law, trying to bring him to his senses. “If you could have taken that arrow, you would have. I don’t doubt it. The Valar must have a purpose for this, and as much as it doesn’t make sense, taking an elfling with barely three hundred summers… if they take him, he wasn’t meant to grace Arda with his light.” Thranduil broke into soft, gasping sobs. Elrond looked desperately to Celebrian. She hurried over and gently took Thranduil’s arm, leading him from the room as she whispered comforting reassurances into his ear.

“Wh- where’s… Ada…” Legolas asked weakly as Arwen held his hand and made soothing noises. Elrond’s face was filled with conflicting emotions.

“Your Ada just needed to relieve himself, tithen-pen,” he lied swiftly. The elfling accepted it easily. “Legolas, I need to know if you remember why you’re not feeling so good,” Elrond said after a hesitation. “Do you remember anything that would explain you being hurt?” The elfling looked distressed.

“N- no…” he whimpered. “I- is that why… Ada is… upset?”

“Yes, pen-neth,” Glorfindel said softly. “He’s very worried about you.” Big, crystal tears rolled down the little elfling’s face.

“I- I won’ go to sleep… gweston…” he whispered. “Ju- just… don’ wan’ Ada t’ be sad…”

“He loves you very much,” Haldir said gently. “He doesn’t like seeing you hurting.” Legolas began to sob weakly and then cried out in agony. Elrond clenched his fists, hating the Valar in this moment.

“I can’t give him a decent painkiller!” he ground out from behind clenched teeth. “It would make him drowsy, and if he falls to sleep, I hold no hope of him waking!”

“Ask Thranduil,” Glorfindel said gently. “Ask him, because keeping the little one awake is only making him suffer. If he truly is supposed to be here, he will wake again.”

Elrond left the room quietly and found Thranduil, staring out of one of the misty windows into the light rain which he had not noticed, Celebrian speaking to him softly and silent tears running down his face.

“Thranduil,” he said quietly. The Elvenking spun immediately. His eyes were wide and desperate. Elrond bowed his head slightly and tore his gaze away from his friend. “He is only suffering worse as the night goes on, mellonamin,” he said in defeat. “I would not let him sleep, because I hold no hope of him waking if he does, but he is in so much pain. The decision falls to you. If he is meant to grace Arda, he will heal as he sleeps. If he is not, he will be gone by the morrow’s eve.”

Many minutes passed before Thranduil’s eyes sought Elrond’s again. “I- I cannot bear the thought of him suffering,” he whispered despairingly. “I- I would have us say our goodbyes, let him sleep, and hope for the best.” Elrond nodded.

“That is the best we can do,” he agreed. “Come, let us say the farewells.”

Here in heaven.

Arwen pressed tearful kisses to her young cousin’s face. “Navaer, tithen-pen,” she whispered softly. “U-‘osto. This is not the end.” Legolas gave her a weary smile.

“Hmmm,” he mumbled. “W- will you give the sweets… to Nana ‘n… ‘n my brothers… don’ feel like them… anymore…”

“Of course, darling,” Arwen said comfortingly, tears spilling down her face. She placed one last, tender, kiss upon his clammy forehead before turning away.

Celebrian cupped the tiny face in her soft, warm hands. “You are a very brave little elfling, Legolas,” she said quietly. “Remember, there will always be people here on Arda that love you while our kind still dwells here.” Legolas’ eyes were getting hazier by the moment. “Until we meet again, tithen calen-lass,” Celebrian said softly. “Until we meet again.”

Elladan took his mother’s place, Elrohir kneeling with him. “We love you, little cousin,” Elladan said softly. “We truly could not have asked for a better cousin. We’ll cause complete and utter havoc in your stead, plus what we’re entitled to.” A weak giggle was his reward.

“I- I’ll help… you…” Legolas promised. Elrohir smiled sadly. “Always.” The two placed a kiss on both his cheeks and left the bedside, silent tears streaming down their faces. The elfling was looking confused as Haldir knelt down beside him.

“You will always be in all of our hearts, pen-neth,” he said. “Far apart though we may be.”

“Wh- where’re you goin’… Hal’?” Legolas asked, fright in his eyes. “Y- you only jus’ got here…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Haldir promised. He leant over to press his lips to his little friend’s forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.” Legolas offered a sleepy smile. Haldir backed away from the bed, keeping eye contact until he could no longer hold the silent tears at bay. Glorfindel passed him and crouched down.

“You keep on causing trouble now, you hear?” he said sternly. Legolas nodded weakly. Glorfindel smiled. “That’s good. I’ll see you again in a while, tithen-pen.” He pressed a quick kiss to the small forehead and left, resting his head against the wall and trying to hold the trembling back. Elrond knelt beside his tiny nephew.

“I have missed you, pen-neth,” he said softly. “And my heart will not be whole until I see you once more.”

“‘n… ‘n the mornin’…” Legolas whispered. Elrond swallowed a sob.

“Yes, tithen calen-lass,” he agreed thickly. “In the morning.”

The Lord of Imladris placed a reverent kiss upon the small elfling’s forehead and swept from the room, everyone barring Thranduil following in his wake. Thranduil gathered his son into his arms gently, cradling him close.

“Wh- why was everyon’ saying those things, Ada…” he whispered. “A- are they going away?”

“No,” Thranduil said softly. “No, they just wanted you to know how much they love you before you go to sleep.” The evident worry on the elfling’s face dissipated.

“Amin mela lle, Ada…” he whispered. Thranduil’s breath caught in his throat.

“Amin mela lle, ion nîn,” he said tenderly, brushing a stray lock of golden hair away from his face. “Amin mela lle ilyamenie. You can sleep now. You can rest, and nothing will ever hurt you again.”

A smile drifted onto the elfling’s face and his eyes closed completely. Thranduil’s breathing hitched and tears ran unhindered down his face. He rested his forehead on his son’s and his tears fell onto the pale skin but the tiny prince didn’t stir, his breathing soft and slow.

*~*~*~*~*

Thranduil’s hands trembled as he reached for the white-handled knives the next afternoon. They trembled more when he grabbed at the small quiver, now refilled with the tiny arrows that the rest of his escort had managed to recover from the battle scene. Full-fledged seizures took control of him as he gripped the miniature blackwood bow. He set it down and went to take a drink of the glass goblet of water sitting beside him. His hands were shaking viciously now and spasmed, shattering the glass so that fragments fell to the ground and broke into millions of tiny pieces. He stared at it blankly for a moment, several gashes in his palms from the broken fragments he still clutched. Elrond appeared at the door, and his face gentled at the sight of the helpless elf standing before him.

“Come, mellonamin,” he said softly as he took the Elvenking by the arm and led him back into the healing rooms. “It will not be much longer now.” Thranduil’s face paled rapidly.

In the healing rooms, he went straight for the bed where his small son rested. The elfling’s face was pale but peaceful. His breaths were few and far between, and very shallow. Thranduil knelt beside the bed and drew his son into his arms. He tucked the small, cool face into the curve of his neck and allowed his hair to fall around the elfling’s shoulders. The slight, warm breaths continued for some time. Almost an hour passed, when a quiet gasp for breath passed the cold lips. A tear fell from Thranduil’s eye and the small figure in his arms stilled.

Would you hold my hand,
If I saw you in heaven?

Navielle, Queen of Mirkwood, was in a right state. She was sobbing profusely, and trembling so severely that three maids had to hold her upright. Her eldest son, Lithron, was raging at the messenger that stood, quivering in terror before the fury the Crown Prince was plainly exhibiting. Her middle child, Leithion, was yelling at Lithron to calm down and leave the poor messenger alone. He finally resorted to slinging his bow off his back and aiming an arrow at his twin’s heart. Despite the tears running down his face, his hand and arm were perfectly steady. Lithron trailed off, mid-rant, and broke down into tears. Leithion dismissed the grateful messenger with a flick of the hand and turned to his mother.

Taking Navielle into a gentle embrace, he barked orders at the maids standing around the hall, horrified expressions on their faces. “Get Lithron to his room, and sedated! Get me a sleeping draught, and when the King arrives, tell him I am in his chambers.” The maids rushed to do his bidding as he led the now softly sobbing Navielle towards the royal chambers.

Would you help me stand,
If I saw you in heaven?

Thranduil held his newborn son carefully. Tears, both of joy and sadness, ran down his face. His wife lay back against the pillows. A gentle smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes affected her lips. “As soon as I saw him, I knew what you’d call him, meleth,” she said. “I thought the same thing, to be honest. It is like going back three hundred years.” Thranduil offered a slight smile. “Welcome to the world, tithen-pen nîn,” he whispered to the small, sleeping elfling cradled in his arms. “Welcome, tithen Legolas nîn.”

I’ll find my way.

The hundred year-old elfling bounced on the soft bed, a sneaky gleam in his bright sapphire eyes. Lithron stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and a look of disapproval upon his face. The elfling pouted. Lithron felt his resolve weaken. “Muindor, please, just let me get you into the bath,” he pleaded. The elfling shook his head gleefully and scampered off the bed and down the hall, his high-pitched giggles of “No bath! No bath!” echoing in the halls. Lithron took off after him, skidding around the corner as he saw his little brother scuttle up a staircase. The sight brought back a memory of a same incident, some three hundred years ago. He stopped suddenly, and his vision blurred with tears. The elfling’s tiny face appeared, a level above him and his features contorted in sadness. He ran, in that odd, toddler way, down the stairs and flung himself into Lithron’s arms. “I sorry!” he wailed. “I take bath! Don’ cry!”

Lithron hugged him tight. “No, no,” he assured the elfling. “Don’t worry, ‘Las, I’m not crying because of you not wanting to have a bath.” His little brother’s features relaxed. “I’m crying because you remind me of someone who I miss very much.”

“Who?” Legolas asked.

“Our little brother,” Lithron explained. Legolas grinned.

“I’m here!” he said brightly. “Don’t need to miss me!” Lithron chuckled throatily.

“No,” he said. “Before you were born, Leithion and I had another little brother. His name was Legolas too and you look exactly like him.” Legolas looked curious.

“What happen to him?” he asked curiously.

“He… he had to go away,” Lithron explained, his voice breaking. Legolas hugged his big brother.

“He coming back?” he asked. Lithron shook his head.

“No, muindor,” he said. “No, he’s not.”

Through night and day.

Leithion watched Thranduil carefully as he lifted his almost two hundred year-old brother into the air. Thranduil’s eyes were focused on whatever he was holding in his hands, and his attention was solely upon it. Leithion placed the giggling elfling on the ground. “Go on, Legolas,” he said gently. “Go and play with Nana. I have to talk to Adar.” Legolas nodded, grinning, and he raced off, his tiny steps pitter-pattering up the staircase. Leithion strode over to his father. “He would have been half a millennia today,” was Thranduil’s only comment. Leithion raised his eyebrows.

“He would have,” he agreed. “But he also wouldn’t have been standing around, staring at things. He would have been running around, having fun. He would have been playing with us, and his friends. He would not have let you be this melancholy. He’d want a party. A party, Adar. A celebration of the life he lived, instead of standing there, obviously thinking about everything he’s missing out on.”

Thranduil rounded on his son, his eyes blazing. “How can I not miss him?” he demanded angrily. “How can I not be so melancholy, as you put it, when every time I lay eyes on anything he ever touched, I’m taken right back to when I held him in my arms that last time? He died in my arms, and every time I look in a mirror, all I can think is murderer.”

“It was not your fault!” Leithion exploded. “You did not aim that arrow, nor did you release it! You are not a murderer, Adar, for you did not kill him!” Thranduil’s eyes were welling with unshed tears and his gaze piercing through his son’s very being with intensity. “I could not even protect my three-hundred year old son,” he said, his voice low and sorrowful. Leithion was struck with an almost insane urge to slap his father.

“You said yourself that he earned his adult’s warrior braids that day,” he said angrily. “He earned the right to be considered an adult, and he fought as one. He died as one.”

“By human reckoning, he was barely six years old, Leithion!” Thranduil yelled. “He barely came past my waist. His bow was half the size of mine, and his arrows little more than half the size of mine! How can I not feel responsible for his death?”

“Because, King Thranduil,” Leithion said dangerously, “It. Was. Not. Your. Fault. I repeat it, you did not fire that arrow and you did everything within your power to save him. We all know it, because you loved him so obviously. Now, stop blaming yourself, and focus on the son you have now, because he needs you like our other brother doesn’t. Not anymore, Adar. He is with Mandos, and Daeradar. You will see him again one day, maybe, but for now, our little Legolas here needs an adar, not a ghost that sometimes says good morning and goodnight.”

‘Cause I know I don’t belong,
Here in heaven.

The elfling bouncing around the courtyard of Imladris was singing a cheerful song.

“Do your ears hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie them in a knot?
Can you tie them in a bow?
Can you throw them over your shoulder like a regimental soldier?
Do your ears hang low?”

Navielle and Celebrian couldn’t help but giggle. “Come now, darling!” Navielle called. “Time to get ready for dinner!” The elfling complied amiably. He skipped into the room, chattering happily. “That was an… interesting song,” Celebrian commented as Navielle undid the tunic deftly and plunked the elfling into a tub.

“Hal’ taught it to me!” Legolas said proudly. “He said I should sing it twice a day for good luck. After breakfast and before dinner!” Celebrian exchanged a wry look with Navielle.

“Very nice.”

Legolas sat patiently as the two elf-maids washed his hair and dressed him in his dinner tunic and leggings. “Another few hundred years and you come of age!” Celebrian marvelled. “Seems like only yesterday I was sitting you on my knee and giving you a wafer of lembas to gum on!” Legolas flashed a toothy grin at his aunt as he hopped off the small chair. He danced across the room and dashed out, singing his ‘ear’ song at full volume.

Navielle grimaced. “Remind me to murder Haldir.”

Time can bring you down.

Thranduil watched as his youngest son was awarded with the quiver and bow that would have once gone to the elf’s namesake. A thought struck him, and he strode forward. Reaching deep into his pockets, he withdrew two, white-handled mithril knives. Giving them to his son silently and stepping back, a small smile drifted over his features. “A gift from your brother,” he said to Legolas. “He would have wanted you to have them.”

Time can bend your knees.

Lithron stared after his little brother as the younger elf jogged into the forest. The Crown Prince knelt down, and rested his head against the trunk of the tree he was standing beneath. “I- I know you would be proud of him, tithen calen-lass,” he whispered. “I know that wherever you are, you’re watching over him, and us. I’ll see you again, in Valinor, and till then, I know that you would be proud and that is enough for me.”

Time can break your heart.

Tears sparkled in the bright emerald eyes of the Queen of Eryn Lasgalen.

// Legolas planted a sloppy, wet kiss upon his mother’s cheek. “Amin mela lle, Nana!” he said brightly. Navielle laughed and placed a kiss on her small son.

“I love you too, Legolas,” she replied. “Now, how about that bath?”

The elfling wriggled madly and dropped from his mother’s arms, bolting for the safety of a tree. “No bath!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with terror. “No! No bath!” He disappeared higher into the tree and Navielle sighed.

“Saes, Legolas!” she called. “Saes! Not a long one, but just to get you clean!”

The chant came back at her. “No bath! No bath! No bath!” //

Her youngest son looked at her and smiled softly. He knelt on Leithion’s left, bowing his head. The three princes’ voices rose in song.

“A Elbereth Gilthoniel,
Silivren penna miriel
O mene aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-diriel
O galadhremmin ennorath,
Fanuilos, le linnathon
Nef aear, si nef aearon!”

Have you begging please.
Begging please.

“Adar,” Legolas said, dipping his head. Thranduil offered a smile.

“Yes, ion nîn?” he asked.

“I would like you to tell me something,” the young elf said, lifting his gaze to meet his father’s. Thranduil stiffened slightly.

“What do you desire to know?”

“I wish to know of my brother. Tell me a little of Legolas, Adar. Saes. Do not let me live my life not knowing why I cause such pain to those I love.”

Beyond the door.

“Your brother was almost exactly like you were at that age. He was as mischievous and fun-loving, and Haldir taught him the ear song as well. He absolutely hero-worshipped the twins, Lithron, Leithion, Haldir and Glorfindel. He was more exposed to things than we let you be though, and he earned his first warriors braids before he was three hundred, which I regret immensely. Ask your brothers for more stories. They could regale you for hours. They adored him to no end.

“A year before you were born, I decided to take him to Imladris with me for a visit, and we ran into orcs. I screamed at him to get up a tree and he did. He shot at orcs, and was a great asset during the fight. Towards the end, he had to move from cover to get a decent shot off, and he moved right into the line of fire. He got off three shots before he opened himself up to attack and an arrow struck him. He got his last shot off and then fell. I caught him and just broke down in the middle of the clearing.

“We reached Imladris, and Elrond started work quickly enough. The twins, Glorfindel, Arwen and Celebrian came too. They kept him focused so he didn’t fall to sleep. The twins brought Haldir in and told stories. Finally, he grew too tired. Elrond told me that keeping him awake was just making him suffer unduly. We said our farewells and then let him sleep. He… he never woke up.”

There’s peace I’m sure.

Legolas jolted as Aragorn touched his shoulder. “You reminisce, my friend,” the man commented in Sindarin as he watched the elf gain a clearer awareness of his surroundings.

“Aye. Of my elder brother.” The blonde prince’s musical voice was melodious and the hobbits smiled without knowing why at the sound of the elven tongue.

“Which one?” Aragorn asked with a grin. “Lithron or Leithion?” A smile tweaked at the full lips.

“Neither. My other brother. Legolas.”

And I know there’ll be no more.
Tears in heaven.

“Living up to someone who had such promise and potential achievements is harder than living up to someone who actually achieved great things. Great things can be bettered. Potential achievements can never be ascertained, and thus never beaten.”

Would you know my name,
If I saw you in heaven?

Thranduil smiled slightly as his son helped the elderly King of Gondor to the Silent Street. Joyful anticipation, not of the King’s death, for he liked him well enough, but of an imminent reunion, swelled in him. He would sail, with his family, within days. Valar knew, maybe the son he had been yearning for, two and a half millennia later, would be waiting on the white shores of Valinor for him. A sudden worry struck him.

What if he did not recognise him?

Would it be the same,
If I saw you in heaven?

Legolas smiled at the dwarf beside him. “Do not fear, mellonamin,” he said firmly. “Valinor is not far away now. You will see Grandmother Galadriel again, and you will meet my daeradar Oropher.” Gimli chuckled gruffly.

“What of your namesake?” he asked. “The older brother of yours?” Legolas’ face turned thoughtful.

“He did not travel to the Blessed Realm,” he said after a moment’s thought. “But it may very well be that Mandos gave him back to Daeradar after a period of time, and he grew up as I did. For my family’s sake, I hope so. Adar especially. They all miss him terribly.” Gimli offered a grin.

“Mayhap we may cause some havoc with the twins?” Legolas laughed.

“Aye, indeed! From what Lithron tells me, my brother was a terrible troublemaker.”

I must be strong,
And carry on.

Thranduil strained his vision to discern the figures waiting on the beach. There was Galadriel and Celeborn… and there was Elrond, Celebrian and the twins… Valar! There were his parents, waving madly! There were Navielle’s siblings and his nieces and nephews, and there were Haldir, Orophin and Rúmil…

Who is that standing behind Adar? he wondered curiously. He looks uncannily like my son, all three of them, really.

‘Cause I know I don’t belong,
Here in heaven.

Thranduil, Navielle, Lithron, Leithion and Legolas disappeared under a mob of joyful elves and Gimli backed away quickly. One elf though, did not join in. He circled around and came to stand beside the dwarf. Gimli studied him carefully. He looked no older than Legolas, and almost identical. “Why aren’t you joining in, laddie?” he asked. The elf smiled ruefully.

“This is their time together,” he said. “T’would not be right of me to interfere.”

Comprehension dawned on Gimli. “I bet they would like to see you dearly, though,” he said. The elf raised an eyebrow at the dwarf.

“Why would that be, Master Dwarf?” he remarked.

“Well,” Gimli said conversationally. “Thranduil for one, would be ecstatic to see his third son.” The elf laughed quietly.

“I see that most people know of me.”

Would you hold my hand,
If I saw you in heaven?

Thranduil broke away from the gathering and studied the elf that stood, talking to the dwarf. The features shoved themselves into his mind and he gasped slightly. Navielle broke away behind him and her joyful cry was like music to his heart. She rushed past him and flung herself at the elf who started, but caught her instinctively. “LEGOLAS!” Lithron and Leithion shouted as one, bolting towards the poor, dumbfounded elf.

The dwarf stood a few metres away, chuckling.

Would you help me stand,
If I saw you in heaven?

Thranduil hesitantly moved forward. The elf lifted his gaze to meet his. He bowed his head. “My king,” he said respectfully.

“Legolas,” Thranduil whispered, anguished. “Do you not remember me?” The elf offered a small smile.

“A little,” he said. Thranduil was hard-pressed not to sob then and there. He pleaded mentally with the elf standing before him. Saes! He begged fervently. Saes, ion nîn! Do not say you do not remember me! He locked eyes again with his son.

And I know there’ll be no more.

A tear rolled down the elf’s face. “Oh, Ada!” he cried, rushing forward and flinging himself into his father’s arms. Thranduil held his son tight.

“Oh, ion nîn, Legolas nîn,” he whispered.

“I have missed you so, Ada!” Legolas sobbed into his father’s shoulder.

Tears in heaven.

Thranduil’s heart was whole, once more. There were no more tears, because he was finally reunited with his son, once more, in heaven.

The End

AN: Basically, little Legolas died when his Mum was preggers. She and Thranduil named the baby after their dead son. The second Legolas was the one in the Fellowship. Crystal clear, eh?

Wow, almost nineteen pages! Please read and review! Sharing is caring!

Forgive me for missing parts, and excessive OOCness… but blame my muse.

(Her name’s Monty. T’would be best if you don’t ask.)

Elvish words are in italics and translated here:

Ada: Daddy
Tithen-pen: Little one
Tithen-pen nîn: My little one
Yrch: Orcs
Tithen calen-lass nîn: My little Greenleaf
Saes: Please
Tithen calen-lass: Little Greenleaf
Nana: Mummy
Ion: Son
Ion nîn: My son
Suilad: Greetings
Suilad nîn: My greetings
Amin hiraetha: I’m sorry
Pen-neth: Young one
Mellonamin: My friend
Navaer: Farewell
U-‘osto: Fear not
Amin mela lle: I love you
Meleth: Love
Muindor: Brother
Daeradar: Grandfather

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