Disclaimer: If I owned Estel, or Legolas would I be here? Come on people think about that. The obvious answer is…

(Elvish prince interrupts)

Legolas: She wishes she does. But she does not. (smirks infuriatingly)

Me: Estel, you had better protect that elf before I shoot him. And remember Legolas. I don’t own you /yet/

Also, there is a very tiny reference to the Mellon Chronicles in here. It doesn’t matter if you haven’t read them, but I need to get credit in now. Although I highly suggest you do! They are absolutely amazing.

Although contradictory to the Mellon Chronicles, we have Estel and Legolas meet when Estel is… seven? It’s easier to write him scared that way.

Elrond Elladan Elhorir Estel Family. Everyone understand? Good.

Dedication: To all the Estels in my life. Those who keep me safe from my fears, and those who help me conquer them. You shall always be kept close to my heart and I will always be there. Wherever you are.

Elvish Translations:
Penneth – Young One
Mellon nin – Friend
Hannon le – thank you

Lasgalen, the palace of the elven King Thranduil, stood beneath the trees in the heart of Mirkwood. The lights from within blazed forth in the dark night. The air was tepid and thick, making the earthy aroma of the woods that much more fragrant.

Guards stood conversing in low voices near the gate. The forest was silent, holding its breath, waiting for something to begin. It worried some of the elves. Normally the forest was full of chattering animals, and the wind would whisper through the trees on a regular basis. Tonight, though, no sound could be drawn from the woods of Mirkwood.

In contradiction to the silent gloomy forest, the palace was bustling with servants going about their duties. Even at midnight they still were devoted to their jobs, keeping the palace running smoothly and efficiently. One whispered to the other as they hurried down one of the passage ways about airing out a few more guest rooms. They had just been informed that a rather large company of supply traders from Esgaroth on Long Lake were coming in the morning.

It had been talked about all that day that a storm was on its way, as the dark clouds that had begun creeping over the trees had attested. The air also felt as it usually did before such type of storm. It was heavy, with an almost too calm nature about it. Many elven children had been excited, dreaming of wrestling in the mud, and things of such nature.

As they passed by one of the already aired-out guest rooms, one of the two servants paused, shutting the door that had been slightly ajar. The last thing they needed in their already busy schedule was to be lectured about closing the doors they found open.

A small boy slumbered within the room, his sleep anything but peaceful. He moved restlessly, murmuring and fighting against whatever imaginary foe had him in its clutches.

The storm struck just then with a vengeance, a clash of lightening ripped through the sky. The heavens opened, a torrential downpour streaming into the trees, hitting the roofs of the far away village houses and the palace, creating an almost drum-like beat.

A clap of thunder boomed, jerking the boy out of his restless sleep. He was known by a number of names, each one an alias in one form or another. His name by birth, although he did not know it, was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, descended of Isildur and Elendil and heir to the empty throne of Gondor. The name he knew now though, was Estel, youngest son of the elven Lord Elrond of Imaladris. His brothers were the Lord’s twin sons Elladan and Elhorir.

While his body had woken, his mind had not yet caught up with him. Shaken by the thunderstorm and the nightmare that still lingered foremost in his thoughts and imagination, his body moved completely on instinct. Another crack of thunder boomed, sending Estel lurching towards the door of his room. The bed clothes followed him, effectively twisting around his legs and tripping up the child. He hit the floor hard enough to leave a bruise.

A third streak of lightening cut through the bleak sky, illuminating the forest and palace in an unnatural bright glow. The unavoidable ear splitting sound of the thunder followed, and Estel clapped his hands around his ears. He brought his feet up under him, running towards the entrance way. His weight slammed up against the door, his velocity too much for him to stop. He danced back, using his weight to pull open the door.

Without waiting to see if anyone had heard the noise, Estel sprinted down the corridor, his mind’s eye envisioning the room his brothers shared when they slept. How many times had he done exactly this, running to them when a nightmare or thunderstorm had him scared? Probably too many to count.

He hoped they were up to the task tonight.

OoOoOoOoO

Legolas dozed restfully on his window sill. He had fallen asleep searching for the stars as he had done since he was a child. His eyes were glassy and half-lidded, the common sign that the elven prince was asleep. He had been driven to seek the beauty of the stars earlier, although he had not been sure why at the time. Even with his elvish sight he could not pierce the dark clouds.

A loud noise reverberated through the spacious room, jolting Legolas out of his sleep. He looked down, surprised to find he had fallen asleep up on the sill. He normally would not have done so, revealing just how tired he was. A stray blond hair had fallen into his eyes as he slept and he tucked it behind one of his pointed ears, looking around to see what had made such a sound.

Surprise flitted across his face as he took in the young human that stood in the middle of his room, clearly panicking. Worry gripped at Legolas’s own heart before he pushed it aside. Estel’s dark locks fell into wide silver eyes, which on normal occasions were full of curiosity. Obviously the human had just had a bad dream. Humans were easily scared, he had found. He jumped down, landing easily and walking slowly over to Estel.

He had met the human a week ago, when the Lord Elrond had come to speak with his father about trade agreements and things of such nature. All the elves in Mirkwood, Legolas chief among them, had been surprised to find that Elrond had a human in his party, especially one who was young, even in the human standard of time. Elrond had been called home to address a matter the twins could not deal with on their own. Legolas had been sad to see the older elf go. Elrond so rarely left Imaladris that it was considered a treat when he came to visit. The prince enjoyed Elrond’s stories as well as his calm nature. To make matters even more interesting, he had left his youngest in the care of King Thranduil and the Prince, promising to come back for him soon.

Estel was only a tender age of seven, which Legolas had not been surprised to find, was young for a human. From what he had discovered, humans grew much faster than elves. While elvish children reached their ‘coming-of-age’ before humans did, they had more time to reach the age of maturity. Legolas tried to remind himself that seven, no matter the race, was awfully young.

“Estel? Is something wrong?” He touched the younger being’s chin gently, making Elrond’s ward meet his gaze. Legolas noticed a sudden comprehension in the young human’s eyes. He pulled away from Legolas, backing up slowly. It was as though Estel had only just realized he was in Lasgalen instead of his own home. Legolas concluded with a sudden shock that was exactly what Estel had thought.

“I… I’m sorry… I should go. Sor-sorry for disturbi-” Estel stammered, backing into a chair in his haste to rectify his mistake. All he wanted was to go back to his rooms; that much was clear. Legolas knelt on the carpet, keeping his movement slow and easy, as he would with a wounded animal.

A deafening peal of thunder, that made even Legolas start, shook the air. With a terrified gasp, the dark-haired child turned, all reason gone once again from his eyes, and threw himself at the prince. Legolas barely had time to prepare himself before Estel buried his face in the soft gold tresses that spilled down his shoulders.

Fighting for balance, Legolas leaned back, his arms automatically closing about the little one. He could feel the fine tremors coursing through Estel, causing the elf to shake slightly as well.

“Penneth?”

Now Legolas was truly concerned. Elrond’s youngest did not reply, merely pushed himself closer inhaling the sweet soothing sent of the fields and woods that lingered in the elf’s hair. Yet again it seemed reason was catching up with the boy. His muscles grew rigid and he pulled from the prince’s grasp, eyes darting around the room in search of an escape route.

Legolas clung to the child’s sleeve, refusing to relinquish his grip even when Estel tried to wrench the cloth from him. His other hand reached out, taking hold of the human’s shoulder, his fingers in an iron grip that would not be shaken off.

“Estel. What is wrong? Speak to me mellon-nin for I would know what ails you before I may find peace again tonight,” Legolas pleaded gently, turning Estel to face him once more. The child would not meet his gaze, although he felt the human stiffen sightly at the endearment. Legolas knew he had never used the elvish word for friend with the child, but he had been hoping that it would help. Estel kept his eyes down, but spoke in a quick and hushed tone so that even Legolas had to strain his keen ears to hear.

“I am sorry, mellon-nin , truly I am. It’s only the thunderstorms. You see, I don’t like them. Not all the time, just when…” Here Estel paused, again remembering that this was not one of his brothers he spoke to but the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, who was still very wary of humans. His gaze hesitantly rose to meet Legolas’s.

Despite himself, Legolas felt his heart go out to the human. Always so open, always so trusting. He wore his emotions on his sleeve without realizing it, and trusted that Legolas would not use that against him. That was the beauty of children, especially this one. He knew the haunted look that should not have graced the face of one so young.

“Except when the nightmares come,” he finished for him, looking into the child’s eyes for the conformation he knew would be there. Another explosion of thunder sent Estel burrowing back into his friend’s outstretched arms. Estel was trembling badly, so hard that the elf had to readjust his position and grip.

“Come on Estel. It’s time for both of us to go to bed.”

When Estel nodded and tried to pull away, Legolas merely tightened his arms. He gestured to his own large bed. “Bed.”

Estel’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“No, really, Legolas. I know that you… I wouldn’t wish to bother you.” He stumbled over his words as Legolas picked him up and forcibly sat him down on the bed.

“Nonsense,” he said, pulling back the blankets and motioning for Estel to climb under them. “You are my friend. I never leave my friends unaided when they are in need of my help. And Estel? You clearly are. Now no more arguing. I am tired as well and I wish to go to sleep.”

He pulled the blankets back up again, settling down for the night. A final crack of thunder reverberated around the room, but Estel only tightened his hold on Legolas slightly, and laid his head on the firstborn’s chest sighing as sleep stole over him again.

“Hannon le,” the child breathed before sleep took him.

Legolas shook his head, a small smile curling onto his face without his consent. So trusting. The storm raged on for the rest of the night, but Estel remained unaffected, for he remained safe in the arms of a dear friend. And the peace you found there, Legolas was discovering, can be unmatched by any fear no matter how great it may be. Perhaps he too, could learn how to trust again. There was much that this dark-haired child could teach.