Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, or any characters associated with them; They belong to their rightful owner J.R.R. Tolkien. We just borrow them to play. *winks*

My Elvish sucks. Tolkien forgive me. *sobs*

A/N: Welcome back and to a new story! :D This story was actually inspired by the story Hairy Scary by Nuredhel. There was a small scene with Thranduil trying to get Legolas to wear robes more like his own. And that got me thinking, Legolas is never shown wearing robes like Thranduil. Like at all. Even on Aragorn's coronation day he wasn't wearing something more to his royal status. He didn't stand out from the other elves clothing-wise. So this story was born! I really hope you find some humor here, I certainly snickered to myself! ;D
This story was written over a year ago, FYI. XD

Royal Robes

It had not been long since Thranduil's beloved wife had died within Gundabad, and the king of Greenwood the Great did what he could to keep both his mind and the mind of his only son off of the grieving pain of this great loss. One such method the king employed was to have many grand parties within his halls, inviting the elves from Imladris and Lothlórien both.

It was a facade, they knew, and as such the elves came when the king beckoned them to his realm for some holiday or another. They would not turn away from the grieving father or the elfling that had been left behind.

Legolas was still too young to understand, he was barely five in terms of human years. He just knew his mother was gone and was told she could not return, despite wishing to. But right now he was faced with a more frustrating thought -or at least what an elfling of his age thought was frustrating when oblivious to the grief the adults were facing.

He stared at himself in the mirror of his bedchambers after the elven butler Galion had managed to dress him in one of the richest robes an elfling could possibly be wearing at his age. The richest of fabrics used, jewels sewn into the seams. It was beautiful and made him appear like a young version of the king.

For the elfling, it was stifling, heavy, and uncomfortable. He could not imagine how his father could move with such grace while wearing robes like these. Or why the older Sinda even wanted to wear these types of garments all the time. That thought alone made the elfling scrunch his nose as his young mind tried to understand his father's thoughts.

"Is something the matter, ernil Legolas?" Galion questioned, giving a small braid down the back of the young elfling's hair while sitting beside him in a chair. The prince was still too young and had not yet perfected his braiding skills to braid his hair for royal gatherings such as the one they were preparing for tonight.

Galion honestly thought perhaps they were just making holidays up at this point to appease the king's need to fill his halls with company. He understood his king's grief and need to keep occupied, so he would continue to attend all the parties Thranduil had as of late without comment. At the very least, there was never any shortage of Dorwinion wine for the elves to indulge in.

And Galion was no exception in the matter of enjoying his king's fine wine choice.

Legolas looked up at Galion just as the elf had finished the perfect little braid of light golden hair. "I do not like these robes. May I change?" He asked, his voice soft and still so young sounding.

The older elf looked aghast at the elfling. "You do not like them? But ernil Legolas, your father picked these out just for you! They are beautiful and make you look so grown up! I would ever be so honored to have such beautiful robes to wear." He offered a slight smile and straightened out the collar of the garment which had somehow messed up without the elfling even doing anything.

"You may have this one if you wish, Galion." Legolas responded, apparently not registering the fact Galion was a full grown elf and Legolas did not even reach his hip yet.

Galion sighed and offered another smile at the little elfling. "Ernil Legolas, do not offer away gifts. Especially those that were given to you by your father and king." He patted the elfling's shoulder. Legolas opened his mouth to protest when a sudden yell came from down the hall of Legolas' room.

"GALION! Tolo hí!" Both gave a physical wince at the harsh call of king Thranduil's voice.

Galion looked down at Legolas as he stood up. "I will be right back, ernil nín. Do not mess up your robes." He said, fixing a few strands of loose hair behind Legolas' little pointed ears. "Or your hair." He added before turning to leave the young prince to see what the king wanted of him now.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Galion was met with Elros walking down the hall straight for him. "Hîr nín Thranduil is beckoning you." Elros said with a weak grin and a slight roll of his eyes.

"Obviously. What does king Thranduil want of me this time? More wine?" He asked, almost exasperated while he followed Elros back down the hall to the king's chambers. That Sinda could drink a whole army of dwarves under the table, he thought wryly.

"Baw, he cannot find his favorite robes." Elros glanced over his shoulder at the Wood-elf behind him.

Sighing heavily, Galion rubbed his forehead. "All of his robes are his favorite. What color was the one he cannot find?" The elven butler questioned.

Elros stopped at Thranduil's doors and looked at his friend with a roll of his shoulder. "He did not tell me what color he was seeking, and simply summoned you to find it. Good luck." He turned and stood at his position on one side of the door while another guard stood at the other side, a slight smirk tugging his lips now.

Galion swallowed hard and glanced up. "Berio nin Eru." He quietly prayed, knocking on the king's door and quietly stepping inside. He did not miss the chuckle from Elros at his silent plea of protection from the king's wrath. "You summoned me, hîr nín Thranduil?" He called, not moving into the room any further than where he stood until ordered to do so.

"Where are my favorite robes? I wish to wear them tonight." Thranduil all but demanded of his elven butler.

The elf stepped into the room further and glanced around. "Remind me of their color, hîr nín Thranduil." He subtly asked, glancing at the Elvenking. From the ones that were littering the king's room he had figured it was either his silver and red robes or a new rich purple robe he had recently gotten.

"Do you not remember my silver and red robes that I cherish above all others?" Thranduil snapped, narrowing his blue-grey eyes at his butler.

"Ae! Goheno nin, hîr nín Thranduil." Right, of course then. Galion picked his way around the clothes littering the floor -those would have be picked up before the night's end- then went to the king's wardrobe. It did not take the royal butler long to step out of the king's large wardrobe, carrying with him the silver and red robes Thranduil had been seeking.

The king swiped them from Galion's hands, running a critical eye over them to make sure they were ready for the night's festivities. "Is my son ready for this evening?" He questioned, dropping his thin robe in favor of dressing right before Galion. Elves were by far not shy, rather proud of their beauty in fact. Thranduil was by far no exception to this.

Galion stood unfazed at the lack of cloth covering his king's...family jewels. "Maer, hîr nín. He looks ravishing in the new robes you have given to him." He said with a bow of his head. He idly wondered if he should tell Thranduil of Legolas' lack of interest in keeping said garments and wanting to change, but he did not want to anger the king and thought perhaps Legolas would understand and it was already a solved issue.

"Good." Thranduil offered one of his rare -albeit small- genuine smiles at the thought of how fitting the lovely new robes he had gotten for Legolas. With this thought, he quickly dressed in his own, years of skilled experience in dressing in such fine robes giving speed to his dressing. He turned to Galion whom ran an appraising eye over the king's body then nodded his approval.

Thranduil then walked out of his chambers and Elros stood at attention with the other guard awaiting the king to exit. With the two guards and Galion in tow the Elvenking made his way to his son's room, and without knocking he walked in, wanting to see for himself how well the robes fit.

He stopped in his tracks with Galion beside him as they stared together at the scene before them.

Legolas had stripped himself of his rich garb and was still in the middle of changing into a plain tunic. The rich robes his father had bought him were laying discarded unceremoniously on the floor, and his hair had somehow managed to become messed up in the change as well, Galion noted with dismay.

"Legolas! Man le carel? Did Galion not properly dress you?" The king said, turning an accusing glare at the elven butler whom started at the sudden accusation.

"Maer, Ada. Galion dressed me in those robes." The elfling turned and pointed to the ones he had left on the floor. "I do not like them. I wish to dress in what I have picked out myself." He said, pulling his light under tunic over his head before he slipped an over tunic on.

"Baw, baw! You cannot wear such garb for tonight's festivities, ion nín. Why do you not like these lovely robes I got you?" Thranduil questioned, kneeling in front of the elfling and stopping him from his actions. He frowned at his son. "Do you not like the colors?" He asked, running his long fingers through Legolas' hair in an attempt to tame the light golden locks once more.

Legolas let out a huff and looked his father in the eye. "I do, Ada, they are pretty colors, but I do not like the robes themselves. They are uncomfortable. I do not think I can even walk properly with them on. I would much rather wear this." He motioned to what he had changed into. The tunic was something more suited for playing outside or riding horses than even the smallest of gatherings.

Thranduil was beside him. His son did not like the robes he himself had grown so fond of. Had he had such garments growing up under his own father he would have been thrilled. "Legolas, ion nín, you cannot go out there dressed in such a common tunic. You are prince of Eryn Galen, you must show this to others."

"But Ada, everyone already knows I am your son and prince of Eryn Galen. Why must I show them that I am prince anymore with such uncomfortable robes?" Legolas asked, staring up at his father while the older Sinda was trying to tame his hair.

Thranduil moved to sit in the same chair Galion had occupied earlier and swiped a comb up, pulling Legolas between his legs so he could fix the elfling's hair once more. Galion sighed quietly and shook his head in dismay. He still did not know how Legolas seemed to always mess up his hair, he was too small to do anything!

The Elvenking looked down at his son while trying to think of what he could say. He had never thought Legolas would openly dislike rich garbs the way he was now. "You do not have to wear them all of the time, Legolas. Only during parties such as tonight's." He reasoned.

Legolas made a sound of frustration. "But that is all of the time now, Ada!" Legolas said, throwing his hands up and looking at the older elf with an exasperated expression.

It took a great deal of experienced willpower for Galion to not break down laughing at the scene. Legolas was young but he was very bright, and that statement was very true. He felt a little bad for Thranduil but he would not intervene on this whole thing and simply stood to the side and out of view while trying to contain a smile of amusement.

Thranduil gaped at his son, his hand frozen in mid-brushing of the elfling's hair. "Legolas..." He sighed and lowered his hands, staring at the small elfling standing in front of him. "Perhaps it is, but it is only for a time." He admitted. Even Thranduil knew he had been excessive in his parties.

But the silence of his halls let his mind wander to his wife's death and he could not bear those dark thoughts. He wished he had the same blissful ignorance that his son had concerning her death, but the Elvenking did not.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he looked at Legolas and ran his fingers through his son's fine hair. "Iesten, ion nín, it will only be for a short time tonight, then you may take them off." He said, shaking his head slightly. Legolas was obviously adamant about not wanting to wear such garments, but he hoped he would soon grow to like them. "The more you wear them, the less you will take notice of any such discomforts." He added.

Legolas groaned and looked to the discarded robes. "I do not believe I will ever get used to such garb." He muttered under his breath as Galion picked up the robes and Thranduil began to undress his son in favor of changing him back into the rich robes he had spent a generous amount of gold on for his only son.

Legolas' mind may have been very young, but how right he was with his statement.

xoxo

All through the years, as Legolas grew closer to his majority, he still hated wearing such gaudy, uncomfortable robes that his father loved and was almost never seen out of. It was always a battle of wills to get the prince of Greenwood the Great to wear something more formal for parties the Elvenking hosted.

First Legolas tried only to wear simple tunics that were hardly remarkable in any way. Then after the elf joined the ranks of their warriors, he tried to use that as an excuse to not have to wear such rich robes during holidays and parties. His warrior's garb was in fact nicer than the others, as he stood out among them as being the crowned prince.

But Thranduil was stubborn and did all he could to talk his son into wearing better suited clothing for festivities. At times there was knockdown drag out arguments over it, at other times Thranduil used deception and wordplay to his advantage in tricking his son into dressing better for his parties.

To everyone's chagrin Legolas became quick-witted at a very young age, and could talk himself in and out of any sort of situation he deemed worthy of his skills. He even used his learned skills on his father at times, the very elf he had learned them from.

Still, he could not always outwit his father concerning the matter of Legolas' choice in clothing during parties. It almost always became a battlefield in the prince's chambers between father and son. At times, when the elves of Imladris and Lothlórien both were present during especially special gatherings, Thranduil quite literally threw his son down and dressed him himself.

Those times, Legolas would fight like a drowning cat trying to get out of a pool of water, and Galion could only stand back and watch in muted horror as Thranduil and Legolas wrestled to get the prince into something formal. The curses and swearing that filtered out of the prince's chambers made even the guards cringe, and all but brought Galion to tears hearing such foul things streaming from both the mouths of the royal elves.

Thranduil did not throw as many parties as he once did, though it did not seem to change how Legolas would fight him tooth and nail about having to wear royal robes.

Tonight, Thranduil almost dreaded the ensuing fight that would no doubt occur. It was a special gathering, as the elves from Imladris and Lothlórien were both present. It was for lord Elrond's adopted son, Estel. It was to be his twentieth birthday and Elrond specifically asked Thranduil if they could hold the party there so that his son could officially meet between the three elven realms.

There was something Elrond wanted to tell Estel after tonight, though he did not elaborate on what that was. Thranduil did not really care, he was humoring Elrond the way the half-elf had humored him years ago.

Stopping in front of his son's bedchambers, Thranduil eyed the door before he knocked. "Legolas, I have some new robes for you to try for tonight." He offered. He glanced down at said garments. These were not as 'gaudy' as his son so generously put it, as the ones Thranduil himself wore. And they were light, so they were not heavy, and the fabric was soft, so it would move with him instead of being 'stiff'.

It was the best robes he could manage to get for Legolas that the woodland prince might actually wear without giving much of a fight. Or so he silently hoped. But just in case, the Elvenking had not yet dressed himself in preparation for the very possible ensuing fight. "Legolas?" He huffed. That brat was ignoring him, he just knew it. Narrowing his eyes, he threw the door open and stormed in.

Legolas was sitting on his bed, poised to flee as he stared down his fuming father. "I am not wearing whatever it is." He said adamantly with a stubborn set to his jaw.

Thranduil blew out a frustrated breath. "Ion nín, iesten. Not tonight. This is for lord Elrond's son."

"Adopted son. And I have never met him, why should I be forced to wear uncomfortable robes for a mortal I do not know or care for?" He questioned, inclining his head much like Thranduil did in challenge.

"Because," Thranduil said, miraculously without having to grind his teeth. "He has not yet laid eyes upon you. You do not want him mistaking you for some warrior of Mirkwood, do you? And do you not care for lord Elrond? It has been over twenty years since you last seen him."

"He knows I do not like dressing so formally, he would understand." Legolas argued that last statement. Though, he did have to agree with his father to some degree, the mortal named Estel would not know him from any of his warriors if he did not try to dress more royally. Though his uniform and armor was outstanding to those within Mirkwood, those outside of it -especially mortals- would not know he was anything more than some lieutenant like Feren.

"At least look at these robes before you outright say no. I did try to keep them somewhat more to your liking." Thranduil laid the robes across his son's bed and folded his arms, eyes narrowed at the younger elf as if to challenge him.

Rolling his eyes, Legolas stood and looked down at said robes. "No royal robes at all is to my liking." He muttered under his breath.

Of course, with the keen ears of an elf, Thranduil heard the words clear as day. Those words sparked an idea Thranduil had not yet tried before. A devilish smirk spread across his face as he reached up and began to undo his own royal robes. "No robes, you say? Fine, have it your way. We shall start a new trend, you and I, the only elves present with no clothing to speak of. We shall most definitely stand out among the rest then."

Legolas whipped his head about, staring wide-eyed at his father. "You cannot be serious, Ada!" Legolas lunged for his father and stopped his hands from undoing his robes, staring aghast at the older Sinda.

"You are the one that does not wish to wear any form of royal robes. I wish to match my son so that others know whom we are without even having to question us." He smirked with mirth written in his eyes.

Legolas gaped. His father had lost his ever loving mind! "You would go out there among lord Elrond and his family, and even the lord and lady of the Galadhrim, in naught but your skin, just to embarrass me into wearing rich garb for a time?" He asked, still staring at his father in shock.

"Maer, ion nín, I would." Thranduil responded evenly, looking at his son with a well known spark of fire within his blue-grey eyes.

The woodland prince stared at his father in bewilderment. He looked at the robes laying out on the bed and picked at one of the sleeves. At the very least, his father had tried to get him something not so...gaudy. They were richer than what he liked, but he sighed as he relented. "You win, Ada." He conceded this time with great reluctance.

If there was one sure thing about his father that Legolas knew, it was that when the Sinda said he would do something, he would most certainly do just as he said.

Tilting his head to better see his son through his one good eye, Thranduil smiled knowingly. "I knew you would come around eventually." He gripped Legolas' chin and lifted his head, kissing the younger elf's temple. "Now get dressed. The party will be starting soon. I wish to enter with you at my side."

"Maer, Adar. I will be present with these robes on." The young Wood-elf said, glancing at his father out of the corner of his eye to make certain the older elf was not going to still and try to embarrass him.

With a nod of his head, Thranduil smiled, rather pleased with himself on this matter, then turned and left his son to change while he himself did the same in preparation for the night's festivities. Legolas knew better than to not keep his word, so Thranduil did not have to worry about his son coming out wearing his armor instead of the robes he'd bought for him.

And Legolas did not disappoint, as both king and prince stepped out as the party began, music playing while they walked side by side and dressed in the finest, richest of royal garments. It was immediately obvious, to even outsiders that these two ruled Mirkwood.

Legolas still felt stiff wearing such robes, and he was uncomfortable despite seeming perfectly normal. He idly wondered if perhaps his father only appeared to enjoy his robes and in fact was as uncomfortable as Legolas was this moment. He glanced at his father, and hated how he could never and still could not read the Sinda's expression or even his eyes.

"Aran Thranduil, ernil Legolas. Mae govannen mellyn nín." Elrond said, stepping up and bowing his head to each of them, before he pulled Legolas into a hug to which the younger elf happily returned.

"Mae govannen, mellon nín. It is most great seeing you once more, lord Elrond." Legolas said, pulling back with a slight smile as Elrond shook hands with Thranduil.

"And it is indeed most great to see the both of you. Legolas, you look so much like the prince of Greenwood the Great in your robes. How in Middle-earth did he manage to get you to wear such formal garb? I was just trying to explain to Estel before we arrived how you would most likely be wearing your warrior's armor, and which one to look for as the crowned prince." Elrond mused with a smile.

Legolas cut his eyes to his father with a huff. "That is a story for another time." He said as Thranduil just smirked in return.

Raising an eyebrow at the two, Elrond just grinned a little. Whatever it was, he was sure it was humorous, no doubt about that. It took quite a bit of effort on the king's part to get Legolas into anything resembling royal garments, and he had heard a good bit of how some of those encounters went about from Legolas.

"So," Thranduil began to change the subject for the time being. "Where is this mortal son of yours? I have not yet had the chance in meeting the adopted child of lord Elrond. And I do not see any mortal men present." Thranduil cast his gaze out across the crowds, but even with just one good eye he could tell there was obviously someone missing; the human Elrond had been raising.

Elrond pressed his hand to his forehead with a shake of his head. "Goheno nin, hîr nín Thranduil. I seem to have misplaced him." Elrond glanced at Thranduil with a weak smile.

"Misplaced him?" The Elvenking questioned, a bit taken aback at the admission of such a thing from lord Elrond of Imladris.

Legolas folded his arms, a little amused at the idea of Elrond misplacing the son he had been raising. How could he misplace a mortal man among elves? Thranduil was wondering along the same lines of his son as the two stared at the half-elf lord of Imladris.

"Indeed, Estel is...very good at getting himself into...misadventures. I fear he has learned that from growing up with Elladan and Elrohir as older brothers. And with his natural curiosity, well, you can imagine the past twenty years have been...eventful, to say the least in Imladris." Elrond chuckled quietly.

"I seem to have missed such interesting times. I will go and make certain your son has not gotten himself into any form of trouble, if my king shall permit my leave of this party." Legolas glanced at his father. He did not really care, he knew the man would be fine enough in Thranduil's Halls, but it would give him a chance in changing out of these robes and getting away from the party.

Thranduil had most certainly not been born yesterday, and he knew what his son was getting at. But the idea a mortal was running around his kingdom unattended -and one that had Elladan and Elrohir has older brothers no less- did make him bristle. He looked to Legolas with narrowed eyes, but waved his hand in dismissal of his son, freeing him of his duty to be present with him.

Legolas bolted before Elrond had the chance in saying anything on the matter, which made the elf-lord chuckle. He turned and stood with Thranduil, silently hoping the king's son could find his own and quickly. Estel had a knack for getting himself into trouble, and in Mirkwood's palace there was most definitely plenty of trouble he could find.

Thankfully he had Elladan and Elrohir right within his sights, though he had to sigh as the twins were shamelessly flirting with a couple of Wood-elves. Valar help me. He thought with a shake of his head.

Legolas almost ran to his chambers to change. He would have been in a full on sprint if not for the robes he wished so dearly to change out of, but they prevented such quick movement. But he was still at his bedchambers within a timely fashion, and he all but burst into his room, stripping from his robes without a second's thought.

He froze in mid-undress as he held the grey gaze of a young man standing within his room, also half undressed of his own nice robes.

The two stood there for several long moments, not daring to move, not even daring to breathe. It was not something either had expected. Legolas did not expect to find the mortal man there within his own chambers, and Estel did not expect to have anyone barge in while he was trying to get out of his robes.

Legolas was the first to react. He stood straight and narrowed his eyes. "You are the adopted son of lord Elrond. What are you doing here within my chambers?" He asked quickly, a sharp sting to his words that mirrored his father's voice.

Estel did not even flinch, in fact he rolled his shoulders in a shrug and threw Legolas a wry grin. "If these are your chambers, then I must admire your collection of weapons." He jabbed his chin in the direction of where Legolas kept his bows, swords, and twin knives that his father had given him when he joined the ranks of the Mirkwood warriors. "My father is adamant that I cannot have such weapons, but Elladan and Elrohir have managed to sneak me a couple of knives here and there." He winked.

Legolas tilted his head just the slightest. That was not the response he had been expecting, though he was not sure what type of response he had been expecting.

Estel then motioned to his current state of dress. "Iesten goheno nin, mellon nín. I did not mean to intrude, but my father made me wear these awful robes and I simply wished to change out of them for a time. I was just going to hide here until a guard found me, and then I was to play the part of a drunken fool having stumbled in here." He held up a bottle of Dorwinion wine with a wolfish grin.

The elven prince was first surprised that this mortal could speak perfect Sindarin. He had not expected even the adopted son of Elrond to be able to speak it with the fluidity and accent that elves could. He relaxed his stance a bit and ran an appraising eye up and down the young man's body. He doubted he was fully matured physically, but he nodded.

With a smile, the elf said, "I believe we are in the same boat then, mellon nín. I was coming here to also change. Perhaps I can help." He went to his wardrobe while Estel stood and watched with curiosity as Legolas grabbed a couple of nice but otherwise unremarkable tunics. "Here, I believe you can fit into these."

Estel took them without question and finished stripping to change. Apparently he had grown accustomed to the lack of shyness that elves were known for, and Legolas could not help but eye the human's exposed skin. He was lithe for a mortal, very young indeed, but there was the beginnings of muscle toning under the skin.

The two changed in silence, and when they were fully clothed in far more comfortable garments, they looked to one another and grins broke out across their faces. "Le hannon, uh...?"

"Legolas." The elven prince bowed his head the slightest, and Estel beamed.

"Le hannon Legolas. You are the prince of the Woodland Realm, then." Estel observed. "As you have already guessed, I am Estel. Glass nín le govaded, ernil Legolas." He bowed his head in respect.

"Maer. But please, do not call me prince. You may call me by my name." Legolas said with a nod of his head. He decidedly liked this human. He was not what he had expected. There was something in those grey eyes and the way that Estel acted that Legolas liked, though what that was he was not yet sure of.

For a moment they stood in silence, but it was not an awkward silence like the first moment. Then Legolas nodded his head at his personal weapons with a mischievous smile. "How about you and I leave the party for the others to enjoy, and we go see how well you can handle an Elven weapon. Have you ever hunted before?"

The grin he received was beaming. "No, I have not hunted, but I am most definitely interested in learning from a skilled Mirkwood warrior. And it would be far more enjoyable than standing around in uncomfortable robes."

Legolas gave a musical laugh and nodded. "Indeed! Come, you may borrow one of my bows and swords." The archer motioned to his collection while he began fitting himself with his usual armor, and gave Estel some armor that would do for the time. They took up a bow and quiver each, a sword each, and Legolas took his twin knives before they left his chambers and made their way toward the stables.

The party was officially in full swing as the elves were drinking and enjoying themselves, music playing and couples dancing. Elladan and Elrohir even managed to talk a couple of pretty Silvan Elves into dancing with them, but both Thranduil and Elrond were becoming concerned as time ticked by and there was no sign of either Legolas or Estel.

Elros suddenly appeared beside the king and he bowed his head, a somewhat nervous expression crossing his fair features. "Iesten goheno nin, hîr nín. Ernil Legolas and a young mortal have just ridden out of the stables and into the forests. I could not stop either. They were dressed in hunting garb with weapons." He informed the Elvenking.

Both Elrond and Thranduil stared at Elros a moment, then turned their heads to exchange a look. Both gave an audible sigh of frustration. Elrond had attempted to keep Estel away from weapons and the idea of hunting for as long as he could, teaching him how to be a healer instead. And Thranduil had attempted to keep his son present and acting more princely.

It appeared the two shared a bit in common with one another concerning how they felt for dressing more formally and their attraction to hunting instead of enjoying festivities. And neither father had any idea of the misadventures the two were going to get themselves into in the coming years.

At least now ernil Legolas' hair is always perfect, regardless of what he is doing. Galion silently thought from the sidelines.

Fin

A/N: I don't know where that ending came from, but I couldn't resist. *giggle* I can just see them bonding in their dislike for royal robes and all. ;D But there you have it! This ended up WAY longer than I had originally intended, but I'm very happy with it nonetheless! Reviews are appreciated and motivating.
Namárië! Until next time!

If my Sindarin is wrong, do not be rude about it. Please either politely correct me, or kindly tell me what does not exist and I will replace it with English/edit the scene. Thanks

• Ernil: "Prince"

• Tolo hí!: "Come here!"

• Ernil nín: "My prince"

• Hîr nín: "My lord"

• Baw: "No"

• Berio nin Eru: "May Eru protect me"

• Ae!: "Ah/Oh!"

• Goheno nin: "Forgive me"

• Maer: "Yes"

• Man le carel?: "What are you doing?"

• Ada: "Dad/Daddy"

• Ion nín: "My son"

• Eryn Galen: "Greenwood the Great"

• Iesten: "Please"

• Adar: "Father"

• Aran: "King"

• Mae govannen: "Well met"

• Mellyn nín: "My friends"

• Mellon nín: "My friend"

• Le hannon: "Thank you"

• Glass nín le govaded: "It is my joy to meet you"

• Namárië: "Farewell" (Quenya)