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art credit for the drawing i used in my edit nevui-penim-miruvorrr@tumblr
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“Ada..” the young elfling squeaked in excitement, his large blue eyes growing even wider if this was ever possible. “How long? Please tell me!”
Thranduil laughed and brushed affectionately a strand of blond hair out of his son’s face. “Just a few more hours, little one.” He had heard the question several times already since had picked up his son from Galion who had taken care of his offspring whilst he was leading the council meeting.
“How long are hours, Ada?” he inquired further as his father’s answer was hardly accurate nor sufficient.
“The more you ask, the longer those hours will be, Legolas.” Thranduil replied, lifting the elfling up against his chest. “Now come we can hardly attend the festivities like this.”
Legolas opened his mouth to protest, but before the words came, the young elf realized that he was grateful being carefully lifted up into his father’s arms. Being carried meant meant that the silken hair which he so much loved to play with was finally in reach of his tiny hands. Thranduil sighed when small fingers began to search carefully for the perfect strand of pale hair that cascaded down his shoulders.
Aye he sighed, but not in annoyance.
Long had the King given up to scold his son and heir for playing with his silvery tresses. No matter what he had told him, how often he had reminded him - Legolas had simply refused to listen. His shimmering, waist-long hair seemed to exert a strange fascination for the elfling, a soothing effect he suspected at times.
“Why?” Legolas asked in a curious tone twisting a strand of the silvery hair continuously around his index finger. “Why can’t we go like this?”
“Because it is a magical night, Legolas and the festivities follow certain rituals.” Thranduil told him with a stern glance that was nothing else than a disguise. In fact the King could never refuse the magical spell of a child’s impatience and enthusiasm. “The powers of nature are on their peak, the magic of these lands roams freely tonight – and we pay tribute to everything the nature gives us. The rites are as old as the world is and we follow them since we wander these lands. The forest is me, and I am the forest. So it always was, so it will always be and one day you will understand, my little leaf.”
Legolas stared at his father with wide blue eyes, still holding onto the strand of hair within his small fingers. Somehow the idea to wander the mighty forest late at night intrigued the young elf. “Do you go often out at night, Ada?” Legolas inquired and Thranduil had not the slightest idea why Legolas came up with this very question. But it was a welcome diversion to the endless repetition of ‘How long? HOW long? Ada can we go already?’ He would gladly answer any question that burned on Legolas’ mind – apart from these three. Poor Galion he thought for the moment, more than possibly his son had pushed his loyal friend to the brink of sanity the past hours.
“I often did.” Thranduil begun and as soon as the first words were said, beautiful but long forgotten memories filled his mind once more. How he had roamed the woods around Doriath once the sun has set and only Ithil’s soft light fell through the dense leaf-canopy, how he had wandered along the little streams on bare feet for many a night. A warm smile absently formed on his lips when these emotions resurfaced. “They say the night’s beauty fades at dawn – and it is true. I love best the stars, the silver rays of the moon, the tranquility of nature, the scent of night-blossoming flowers, the songs of the birds. Aye – my forest is a magical place at night, Legolas but unfortunately these days my days and nights are busier than they have been in my youth.” Absently, a sigh left his lips – these days his regal duties often overwhelmed the new king. “And possibly this is the very reason why I am looking forward towards tonight.”
“Oh me too, me too.”
Catching his gaze, Thranduil laughed. “I have almost forgotten about your excitement!” Simultaneously he ruffled through his son’s hair until Legolas squeaked with pure delight.
~~
This year was the first time for Legolas that he would finally witness the summer solstice now being old enough. In truth he had never been too young as all inhabitants of the Woodland Realm could attend the festivities if they wished to, but all the previous years Legolas had simply fallen soundly asleep during the afternoon’s preparations and therefore missed everything what the night had to offer. Afterwards, he was utterly sad the following days, heart-broken even and it took his father every effort imaginable to light up his son’s mood.
But this year everything would change, of that the elfling was certain and he had been overly excited the past days already; by now he was almost bursting with curiosity and Thranduil struggled to calm his son down, at least a little was necessary.
Otherwise he possibly would pass out again before he could see a glimpse of what the night had to offer.
Legolas wasn’t overly patient, never was in fact and especially not today!
Everything took so incredibly long and he was so ready for the festivities, for the longest night of the year. Once more excitement flitted across his face and a shiver of curiosity down his spine – actually he had no idea what to expect from the night, but it mattered not.
Thranduil carried him to the royal chambers, locking the door behind them as he did not wish to be disturbed, cherishing the time he could spend with his beloved son.
No matter what ailed the members of the small council – family came first.
Always and foremost - especially today as Legolas’ excitement hardly went unnoticed.
For once Thranduil had shunt all regal duties taking the rest of the day off to introduce his beloved son to everything which came with the festivities that celebrated the middle of summer, the longest day of the year – something divine and sacred. And – apart from that – there seemed to be a thousand things to be done before the festivities could finally start, making themselves presentable among them.
Thranduil slipped into his festive robes which were dyed in the darkest shades of green, richly ornamented with shining ivy leaves – the symbol of his realm, woven into the fabric with thin fibers made of pure gold. The proud King tamed his long tresses into delicate braids, closing them midway on the back of his head with precious ornamented silvery clips, crafted in the shapes of leaves ornamented with tiny emeralds that perfectly matched the color of his forest. The rest of his hair was flowing freely, cascading down over his back and shoulders much to Legolas’ delight.
When he caught his son’s gaze in the mirror, Legolas stared up at him in awe – never has his father been more beautiful the elfling thought.
“Ada – the sun begins to set.” Legolas said in a curious tone, his eyes travelling between his father and the light orange sky back and forth. Once more impatience grew within him.
“Aye.” Thranduil laughed, lowering his body until he was on eye level with his son. “But it won’t disappear in the next few hours – there is no hurry for us. And now come, let me make you presentable for tonight’s festivities. How does this sound?” Legolas has played in the royal gardens together with Galion the entire day and was still covered in dirt, fragments of leaves hanging in his blonde hair. The response was instant and his son’s excited voice filled the room. “Yes, yes, yes – please Ada! I want to look like you.” Legolas always wished to be a miniature edition of his father, mimicking his voice, his tread, his style of hair – actually everything he could accomplish.
“I will try my best, little leaf.”
Carefully, Thranduil removed everything that was tangled in his son’s hair which was a little more golden than his own was. Gently, he brushed the silken strands until they were shimmering in the soft light of the late afternoon, until he was entirely satisfied with the result. Only perfection was befitting their rank. Of course, he already knew that freely flowing hair wouldn’t do – after all his own head was decorated with braids and delicate clips. “Now, don’t you look beautiful, Legolas?” Thranduil asked to tease his beloved child a little.
“NO!” Legolas blurted out, shooting his father a pointed look over his shoulder. Certainly he would have stomped if his tiny feet would only reach to the ground – but they didn’t in his seating position. “I want braids. Like You!” he added, crossing his arms in front of his chest, sulking heavily.
A genuine smile curled on Thranduil’s lips – how on earth should he ever resist his precious son anything? Legolas was a – no - his ray of sunshine, his sweet summer child – the middle of his life. Everything he lived for. “Alright, alright, Legolas. No reason to pout nor to shoot annoyed glances in my direction.” At times he truly wondered where his son has picked up these gestures.
And with that, he began to weave intricate patterns into his son’s hair, one small braid on each side of the head adding strongly scenting flowers into the braid every once in a while before he closed the ends with identical silver clips. With every movement of his fingers Legolas’ smile became more radiant until he was beaming with sheer happiness. Yes, this was exactly how he wished to look like. With a single motion, Legolas sprang to his feet and swung his arms around his slightly startled father. “Thank you, Ada.”
“You are more than welcome Legolas. But still I need to dress you appropriately. Do you have any preferences of what to wish to wear?”
Of course Legolas had – he always knew what exactly he wished to wear for special occasions. “The silver thing.”
Thranduil couldn’t bite back a hearty chuckle. “You have at least twenty silvery things.” He stated with a furrowed brow and this was possibly even an understatement as his son had an endless love for silvery garments and the King could never refuse him anything. In fact he loved to spoil his only son rotten and when Legolas asked for a new gown he made certain he would order at least three. “So which one exactly?” he added with a laugh.
“The silvery tunic .. the one with the long sleeves - together with the black leggings.” Legolas stated with utter determination. At times one could easily forget that his son was still a little elfling, he mused to himself, shaking his head upon the sight his heir presented.
“So be it.”
A few moments later, Legolas was neatly dressed, his hair shimmering in the last light of the sun and carefully he observed his appearance in the mirror, his gaze wandering from his own reflection towards his father and back again.
“You are beautiful, Ada.” Legolas whispered when his father placed his crown of leaves and flowers onto his head – the crown of summer which he would wear for the first time this very night. Only then, Legolas realized that it were the exact same flowers in the crown was were carefully woven into his own braids.
“So are you, my little one.” Thranduil replied and wrapped his arms around his son’s lithe body. “But now let us go, we do not wish to be late, do we?”
No of course not! Legolas’ heart leapt in excitement when his father’s words reached his pointy ears. “I love you Ada!”
A warmth began to occupy the King’s heart upon those lovingly said words.
~~
It was the height of summer and the ground of the forest was covered with thousands and thousands of tiny flowers – violet, blue and bright yellow ones were among them – each of them eliciting a divine incent. To Legolas’ eyes his father’s forest seemed to stretch as far as ever possible – to the end of the world, filling the land with an endless carpet of flowers and trees.
In silence King and Prince walked past ancient trees and moss-covered stones along the narrow path which led deep into the dense forest, Thranduil’s hand securely wrapped around his own until they were standing in front of the entrance to a hidden glade, the distinct sound of gushing water audibly from far away.
Legolas was certain that he had never seen this part of Greenwood the Great before.
“I do not know this place.” He mumbled to himself but loud enough for his father to hear, searching for Thranduil’s eyes.
“Because you have never been here. This clearing is a sacred place, Legolas and is only used for special occasions. On usual days the entrance is vanished.”
A quizzical look graced Legolas’ face. “So it is a spell?”
Aye it was, Thranduil had to admit but the word itself had something negative to it. No he didn’t like the sound of it. “A concealment.” He corrected.
Over the years, Legolas had grown wise enough to listen to that special voice his father was using right now. Parts of him wished to say ‘but it is the same!’ but for the moment he refrained, following Thranduil’s steps past the entrance.
Legolas gasped aloud when his mind began to comprehend the entirety of the scenery. The King was exchanging formal greetings with several other elves but everything was lost on the Prince. The world paused for a moment, giving the young elf the feeling as if he was the only one who existed on earth. With wide eyes and open mouth he stood, frozen to the ground as his gaze travelled over the richly decorated clearing. His father’s realm was a fascinating world itself – but he had never seen anything more beautiful than this. The branches were decorated with flickering candles that hung far down, nearly touching the ground, torches illuminated the nearby wooden benches; The last remains of sunlight filtered through the dense leaf canopy, gushing softly onto the flower covered ground, painting the enchanted forest into soft shades of orange and gold.
“WOW.” Legolas mumbled – still staring in utter fascination.
In the middle of the clearing was a grand pyre made of carefully stacked branches enthroned, the pyre for tonight’s sacred bonfire which would be lit once the sun has set.
Once, twice he rubbed his eyes in disbelief, over and over but the vision wouldn’t vanish – never before has Legolas seen anything alike.
The air was heavy with the incense of night-blossoming flowers, jasmine, violets, hawthorns and wild orchids mixed with the musky aroma of juniper and sandal wood. It was the scent of his father’s forest, the scent of his entire childhood – the scent of Greenwood the Great, his beloved home but for some reason it seemed to be stronger, heavier than usual. Or was it just another ‘concealment’?
“Do you like it, then?” Thranduil asked rhetorically – the answer was clearly written on his son’s face who seemed to adsorb every detail of the decorations. Heavenly tones of drums, pipes and flutes echoed through the trees, arising from different locations within the great forest, voices joined them in ancient songs, creating a truly magical and spell-binding atmosphere. For long moments Legolas simply stared, unable to speak a single word, absorbing the beauty that the decorated forest was.
“Yes. Oh it is so beautifully, Ada.” He finally replied in delight, struggling to find the perfect words to explain what rushed through his innocent mind. Carefully he was wrapping his tiny arms around his father’s thighs. “Thank you! Thank you for taking me.” Involuntarily, gooseflesh began to spread along his arms, his neck and legs – he couldn’t even explain where the shiver had come from all of a sudden.
“But of course my little leaf.” Thranduil replied as he placed an affectionate kiss on top of the silken head. “After all you are the Prince of this Realm.” His voice was warm and gentle - and heavy with adoration. “My beloved son. My heir.”
Legolas only nodded, still taken aback by the entirety of the situation.
The elfling’s gaze wandered from fireplace to fireplace, towards the musicians and the couples who danced around the great pyre to the heavenly music and back to the spinning wheels of fire.
Wine and brandy of different tastes was served at different places, and continuously more and more elves filled the clearing, dancing, chatting and celebrating the magical night.
Far away the drums pounded – once twice but suddenly they drew nearer, pounding again – once – twice and all over again and fear began to occupy Legolas’ mind. The increased heartbeat didn’t go unnoticed by Thranduil and with a soothing voice he whispered. “Shh, Legolas. No need to worry.” Legolas only nodded not being entirely convinced as the frightening sound once again filled the nightly air – and all of a sudden all around him went silent; except the King who was speaking with one of his advisors.
“Ada? ADA!” Legolas said with a certain impatience, tugging at Thranduil’s robe to make him listen. “Just LOOK!” he added, stomping his foot onto the ground to give his words strengths. Several torchbearers ran through the crowd and casted their lighted brands into the stacked branches of the grand pyre. Carefully, Thranduil placed one arm around Legolas shoulders, explaining him what was happening - it was a great honor to be torchbearer during the solstice festivities and Legolas was truly intrigued.
The bonfire caught and caught as the expanding flames leapt like waves towards the violet-blue of the early night sky, painting the secluded clearing in a golden veil, before they finally disappeared in the evening air. Legolas stood silently at his father’s side and watched the dance of the flames, listening to the spell-binding crackling of the fire. The warmth of the flames began to caress his face, a soft breeze danced through his hair. It was intriguingly beautiful but a little frightening at the same time the elfling had to confess and he was glad that his father was always at his side. Where Thranduil was, nothing could ever happen, Legolas thought.
Despite the little fear that still occupied his heart he was truly fascinated by the festivities, especially with the bonfire. Carefully, Legolas took a few step forward into the direction of the great fire, staring into the dancing flames. The grip on his father’s hand tightened, searching for Thranduil’s eyes when a massive branch cracked in the bonfire.
“Fire is powerful weapon, Legolas.” Thranduil began, sipping on his goblet that was filled with potent wine. “Dangerously and deadly – but it is also the breath of life. Without its strength we couldn’t survive.”
“Aye.” Legolas whispered, letting his head fall against his father’s thighs. “I know what harm can come from it – but I love to watch the dance of the flames. I have NEVER seen such a huge fire, Ada. NEVER.” He added with a hearty yawn. “How long does it last?” His son wished to know, his voice was already drowsily, his eye-lids heavy with sleep. “The celebrations I mean.”
‘For you? Not very long I fear’ Thranduil thought, but said instead: “The entire night until the sun announces the new day.” There was no need to ruin Legolas’ first summer solstice with a snarky remark, and watching the dancing flames could be indeed tiresome and relaxing, Thranduil knew it from personal experience.
And he was accurately right; Legolas continued to watch the flames and the dancing elves for a few more moments before he nearly fell asleep right where he stood. Both of his small arms were wrapped around his father’s legs, accompanied by his heavy head, yawning continuously.
~~
The fires where still burning, the songs still filling the nightly air and the wine freely flowing when Thranduil carried the utterly exhausted and sleeping figure in his arms back to his vast halls, an affectionate smile playing on his lips.
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