A/N: Yo yo guys! This is a 'Fic that will follow through Legolas' childhood. J.R.R. Tolkien left out Legolas' appearance in detail, and his family except for Thranduil. This is my take on the story, and Legolas will have dark blonde hair and green eyes (Rumour has it that his eyes are grey, bit there are too many elves with grey eyes for my liking). Also, 1 year in age for an elf if 38 human years. Review for ideas and grammar issues! Flame me if you please! Listen, I know the shadow fell on Greenwood in 1050 of the third age and LOTR takes place in 3019, but whatever. I'm too lazy to do the math. If someone would let me know in PM or reviews, I will update the FanFic. This will be a fifty (give or take) chapter fic, and I will revise it if you come up with more suggestions and ideas.

Disclaimer: I own side characters. And that's it. Don't tease me.

Thranduil couldn't sit still. He paced back and forth. His wife was in labour with their fourth child, and he was so anxious the servants couldn't get him to wait. His other children were easily entertained in the gardens, and weren't overly concerned with the present situation. He thought of his other children.

First was Arn, which was Royal in Sindarin. He had his mother's raven hair and his father's blue eyes. Arn was stockier in build, as stocky as an elf could be anyway, and was starting training with blunt swords, as he'd always admired real ones. He was three hundred eighty years old and proud to be a maturing elf. Unfortunately, trying being mature often got him into trouble. Thranduil chuckled as he remembered the garden fiasco thirty-eight years ago. Arn had tried to sort out a dispute between his younger siblings which ended up in him spanking the others like his father did to him later that evening. Thranduil warned him to tell a 'big elf' next time rather than to take matters into his own hands. Just the same, Arn whined that he was a big elf, but that got him a day with no toys because 'big elves don't play with such things'.

After Arn, the beautiful Meril (Rose) came into the world. Meril was small but strong. Her platinum blonde hair was wavy. She had turquoise eyes that glittered like the sun on the sea. Meril was quiet most of the time and found her interest was in an interesting book. As she was only two hundred sixty-three years old she often read picture books. She was an exceptional reader and would sometimes pick out a thin novel in her section of the royal library. Meril often had to be reminded to pay attention in her lessons as she would often daydream during arithmetic and political sessions, her head always in the clouds from her books.

Bregol was currently the youngest elfling. Resembling his beautiful mother he was just a toddler to men. His tufty black hair stuck up in all directions and wouldn't, and couldn't be tamed. Bregol's hair and personality resembled his name perfectly (Fierce). Bregol was famous for his tantrums and wouldn't settle for anything less than what he wanted. Thranduil and Sîdh hadn't wanted spoiled children but Bregol was uncompromising. More than once was he was put in timeout.

Thranduil snapped out of his daydream when he heard shrill cries. The crying of an elfling. Faster than any of his steeds, Thranduil leapt up and dashed into the next room.

Then he saw the most beautiful thing he would ever lay his eyes on. A newborn elf, just two minutes old was being cleaned and swaddled in the thickest blanket Greenwood had to offer. The elfling had thick hair like himself. It was a comical faux hawk that was a deep blonde. As the elfling was gently placed in Sîdh's arms it opened its eyes. They were green like the forest it would be raised in.

After a long pause Sîdh spoke in a raspy voice "It's a boy."

All Thranduil could do was cry.