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Elrond appeared to consider. "Be that as it may, it is still an ugly sight."

"I do not think it is ugly," Elladan protested. "It is an honest injury at least, left by an unpleasant war. War leaves scares, Harune says, and I believe him. Not everyone walks away in one piece."

"Exactly," said Elrond. "Thranduil is broken."

Elladan and Elrohir's eyes flashed in sudden anger. "It is not true, Elrond. Thranduil is not broken. His scar has not left him in pieces; he is whole even if you cannot see it. There are ugly wounds but this is not one of them."

Unprepared to argue with his sons, Elrond challenged, "And what is an ugly wound, pray tell?"

Elladan spoke, his voice sad.

"An ugly wound, Elrond, is the swelling your spankings leave behind. Ugly wounds are the welts from the switches you used to stripe our legs when we misbehaved years ago in Lothlorien. Those are ugly wounds. Thranduil's scar is honest and it was not given to him by the person who is supposed to love him."

Elrond stood still and Elladan took Elrohir's hand to brace for the anger he felt sure was about to explode. But the lord of Rivendell rose from his chair, turned on his heel, and strode from the room without a sound but the furious pounding of his boots against the floor.

Elrohir let out a hard breath and turned to clench Thranduil's robe in his hands as he hugged him, leaving his chair at the end of lunch. He heard Elrond stop and pause in the doorway, glancing back as Thranduil knelt before the twins and the skin on his cheek slipped away like water from a sandy beach, revealing the gaping hole underneath.

Elrohir heard Elrond suck in a hard breath as if the sight of the wound sickened him but he stared at the puckered flesh with no fear in his eyes. After a long moment he reached out and touched it, expecting to feel oozing, weeping flesh but touched only dry, smooth skin. Thranduil met his eyes without a flinch.

"It does not hurt me now," he said. "It used to, and I would drink smoking green medicine each day." He looked over his shoulder with a grin at Harune. "You remember, ada."

"Oh, I used to prepare it, my lord," Harune teased. "It smelt dreadful. I remember throwing the glass of medicine against the wall when you said you no longer needed it."

Elladan considered the blemished flesh, watching as the mask of magic rolled to cover the wound with perfect flesh. He looked toward the door as Elrond marched away. The elves left the dining room in silence, making their way to the living room.

Thranduil lingered in the doorway as Legolas ran to jump onto the couch beside the twins and Landion. Harune wriggled into the space between them and collected them into a tight embrace for the recounting of one of the many stories in his head.

Legolas looked up for a moment as Thranduil collected his book off the table by his armchair and walked away. His father looked back in the doorway and blew him a kiss, much to the amusement of Glorfindel who passed in the hallway in search of his stewing lord.

Thranduil drew in a deep breath as he left the palace, nodding to the guards outside the doors, and jogged into the woods, years of practice keeping his nimble feet from landing on the hem of his robe.

Knowing Legolas would be fine without him, Thranduil settled down at the roots of an elder oak tree, off the main path, shielded by vines of honeysuckle and moss-covered rocks. He leaned back against the trunk and opened his book on his knees, shaking his head as he realized he had been reading the book for the past twelve months and had not made it as far as one might imagine.

Engaged in the pages, Thranduil unconsciously heard approaching footsteps and ignored them, sensing no danger. He was vaguely aware of a person standing in front of him but thought not to look up.

"Ahem," coughed a voice, and jerked Thranduil from his pages.

"Oh, Elladan," the elf king said, and put aside his book. He ran his eyes over Elladan's face and realized the elfling needed to talk. "Come sit down, and tell me what it is clouding your eyes."

"Elrohir is not here," Elladan said, accepting a seat on the moss beside Thranduil.

"So I see," the elf agreed.

Elladan squirmed. He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his cheek on them. "It is Elrond who bothers me, Thranduil. I do not see how he can want us not to be exposed to violence when at the same time he exposed us to it every day back home."

Thranduil touched his cheek. "You mean my scar."

"Yes," said Elladan. "I do not like him but neither do I hate him. It is Elrohir who is hurt in more visible ways. My wounds are hidden, like yours."

"It would be unnatural for a child not to feel wounded by a father's wrong actions," Thranduil said softly. "I knew you were hurting inside, Elladan, and I knew you would tell me in your own time. What I could not understand is why you stayed so . . . strong on the outside."

"It was for Elrohir," Elladan said. "He needed me to remain strong for him; he needed me to be his support. Without me, he would have fallen to pieces, Thranduil, and it would have killed me to see him shattered. As much as I was hurting—betrayed—stabbed—I had to keep my feelings under control; had to make sure they ruled me not. I had to be strong for Elrohir."

Thranduil held out his arms to the elfling and supported Elladan's topple against him, rubbing the elfling's back in soothing circles.

"I understand, Elladan, and I think your gesture gave Elrohir someone to turn to when he needed someone to be there for him. But I think you need someone you can turn to as well. You might feel better if you let Elrohir see some of your emotions and sort them through together."

Elladan drew in a deep breath. "I suspect you are right. It is not that I am reluctant to shed a few tears. I do not naturally show emotions. It is something I have to remind myself to do or they fester inside me."

Thranduil nodded. "When Legolas came to live with me, I was impatient and more attached to things then I was to my son. It took a while for me to learn to love him and him longer to learn to love me."

Elladan swallowed. "Years, you mean."

"Maybe two," Thranduil agreed.

Elladan sighed. "Time is such a long thing. Why must is stretch on so?"

Thranduil hugged the top of his head. "Time is a precious thing even to me, as an elf. I enjoy every minute of my life and my days with Legolas."

"I wish I could savor every moment I spend with Elrond," Elladan said a bit wistfully.

"One day," said Thranduil, "You will be able to. Harune, Glorfindel, and I are here to make sure you have your father back soon."

"I despair of your efforts working," Elladan whispered. "Every day I hope less and less Elrond will stop spanking us. Every day I hope but every night a little more of the light dies."

Thranduil felt his heart swell in sympathy. "Hold onto it, Elladan, for as long as you can. Do not let the last slivers of it slip away. I too once felt I would never reach the top of an endless stair; that Legolas would never stop cringing whenever I raised my voice. And as my hope died, it was renewed. Now I need not hope Legolas will love me because I know he does."

"Elrohir and I know Elrond loves us," Elladan said. "There was a time when we could feel it . . . but a wall cuts it off now."

"We must find a way to break the wall," Thranduil said, kissing the dark head. "You and Elrohir can help us in anyway you can."

"You need not ask," Elladan murmured. "Will you—will you hold me while you may?"

Thranduil glanced at his book and smiled. "You need not ask, little one," he echoed.

Thranduil strolled into Legolas's bedroom at nine o' clock and found the elfling buried deep in the thrilling pages of a book. A candle burned furiously on the bedside table.

"Ahem," said Thranduil.

Legolas looked up, smiled, and returned to reading.

"Legolas, what time is it?" Thranduil asked sternly.

Legolas looked at his small clock. "Nine."

"And what time is it you must put the book away and sleep?"

"Nine," said Legolas. "But, ada, I do not see why I cannot finish the chapter. There are only six pages left and I cannot wait until tomorrow without tossing and turning all night. It is not fair!"

"This is how bedtime is set up and this is how it has been for many months," Thranduil said. "Now put the book away and let me tuck you into bed."

"I do not want to be tucked into bed," Legolas said stubbornly. "I want to finish this chapter!"

"The world will not end if you wait until tomorrow. Do as I say."

"No," said Legolas, folding his arms across his chest.

Thranduil drew in a deep breath. It had been a while since he had dealt with trouble over bedtime because Legolas rarely found books he could not stand to put down. Without a word, he removed the volume from Legolas's hands, blew out the candle and left the room, murmuring, "Goodnight."

Legolas said nothing. When Thranduil passed his door again after changing into his dressing gown and nightshirt, the yellow light once again blared from beneath the door. Frowning, the elf king wrenched the door open and glared at Legolas, once again buried in the book with his candle blazing.

Thranduil knew the twins and Landion were sleeping and kept his voice level. "Legolas Greenleaf, you are young and without your sleep you will be exhausted and short tempered in the morning. Give me the book."

"I do not want to; I only want to finish this chapter, and I do not see why I cannot when it is only four more pages. I know you are going down to sit with Harune by the fire to talk and it will be forever before you come to bed. I will finish my chapter and sleep, I promise."

"It is past your bedtime," Thranduil said, making a move to take the book but Legolas snatched it away. "I am older then you and I do not need as much rest."

"I will not give it to you," Legolas protested, hiding the volume behind his back with defiance written across his face. "It is not fair. This always happens and I have to sleep as soon as nine o' clock comes around, even when I am in the middle of a chapter, and it is wretched."

Thranduil stared at him, remembering past fights over the same topic. "Legolas—"

"I will not," wailed the elfling. "How would you like it if you were told to—to leave a document half finished? You would hate it and I hate this now. It is so unfair!"

"You know how much time you have to read!" Thranduil cried in exasperation. "It is not my fault you miscalculated."

"Miscalculated?" Legolas snapped. "I do not count how many minutes I have to read a chapter and neither do you. I read it!"

"All right, that is it. Give me the book!"

"No!" Legolas cried, tears filling his eyes.

Thranduil stared at him, feeling unsympathetic but also realizing this problem over bedtime had to stop. He hated fighting with Legolas and he knew Legolas hated it as much as him. His displeasure faded as he sat down on the edge of the bed and asked, "How many chapters of the typical length do you read in half an hour?"

Legolas wiped his eyes. "I do not know."

"Make a guess."

"Maybe three or four?" Legolas said timidly.

"I will tell you what," Thranduil said, "Instead of giving you half an hour to read, you can read a set amount of chapters before you have to sleep. That way we will not have this trouble over time running out in the middle of a chapter."

Legolas's eyes brightened and the look of defiance left his face. "All right. How many chapters can I read each night?"

"It depends on the length of the chapter. If they are short, say six pages, seven. If they long, say twenty pages, three. And if they medium, say ten pages, five."

Legolas fidgeted, as he looked at Thranduil, unsure if he would grab the book before he pulled it out from behind him and flipped through the number of pages in his chapter. He stared at it for a moment before he let it fall into Thranduil's lap.

"I agree, ada. I-I guess we will start tomorrow. W-will you tuck me in?"

"I am sorry I yelled," Thranduil apologized.

Legolas turned his face away to hide tears. "It is all right. I know I was being difficult. I just wanted to finish the chapter."

Thranduil leaned down to kiss his cheek, wiping away the tears. He leaned back against the headboard, shifting to make himself comfortable before he opened the book across his knees. Legolas sat up to look at him.

"I will read the rest of the chapter to you," Thranduil said. "But after I leave, the candle needs to stay out."

Legolas nodded as he moved closer to Thranduil and leaned his head on his shoulder to listen to the ending of the chapter. By the time the elf king finished, a sleepy head nodded against his shoulder. The elfling slipped down into his pillows and blankets as Thranduil tucked him in, putting the book aside, and kissed the top of yellow hair.

"Goodnight, little leaf, I love you."

"I love you to, ada," Legolas mumbled. "So much. You are the best father in the whole world . . ."

Thranduil left the room feeling satisfied inside, knowing Legolas was not hurt and no harm had been done. His smile reached his eyes as he walked toward the living room where Harune awaited him, knowing he would treasure the memory for a long time yet to come.

OoOoO

"So, do you want to tell me who the other elf was?" Erestor asked.

Ariel looked up at the rising moon from the balcony. "I was with him for two years. His name was Nyril. Four months ago he left."

"Left?" Erestor questioned, biting into his sandwich.

Ariel nodded and turned away from the railing. "His spirit departed for Valinor; He was killed by orcs."

"I am so sorry. Two years is a long time to be with someone only to lose him," Erestor said sympathetically.

Ariel sat down opposite him and picked up her sandwich. "I wanted to bear his child. But I did not realize I was carrying a baby until a few weeks ago. And now I have you."

"I give my word I will not leave for Valinor," Erestor teased. "I will be here with you to raise our child."

Ariel smiled. "I know you will; I see it in your eyes."

As her eyes traveled back out to the valley rim on the horizon, Erestor asked, "Are you wondering how he fares over the sea?"

"No. I am wondering how Lord Elrond is in Mirkwood."

Erestor sighed. "I miss Glorfindel. And I hope the twins are fine. I know Elladan and Elrohir ran from their home in fear. I hope Elrond is trying to make amends."

"Our Lord is stubborn as we all know. But I too will hope."

Readers: Thank you all for reading; I appreciate it so much. As always, I love hearing from you: what you enjoyed and what you did not.

Next Chapter: Will Elrond finally open his heart?