Note: Not my characters! I've decided on a compromise for Elrond's age- I'm making him 8000 years old during LOTR. This takes place way before that, when Legolas is the equivalent age of 4 by human standards- not certain what the Elven age would be. I decided not to use pure Elvish; I don't have the time to look up all the words. Sorry. My muse was very demanding, and refused to let me sleep until I got this finished.

Little Stranger

Part 1

It was only a matter of time before the grief-stricken Elves of Imaldris and Mirkwood, who were currently in Lothlorien, killed one another, Glorfindel decided.

King Thranduil of Mirkwood stood alone, proud as always, and ridiculing the Elves from Imaldris. His children, at least all except for one, joined in the sarcastic remarks.

For his part, Lord Elrond Half-Elven took the taunts fairly well, and kept his young children from fighting with Thranduil's. He knew part of the reason that the insults were being flung so much today was because of the loss of King of Mirkwood's wife. She'd finally succumbed to her grief, after being captured and tortured by Orcs.

They were in Lothlorien to mourn her and offer condolences, for Thranduil did not want the Elves of Imaldris in his kingdom and Elrond felt the same.

Most of the guests were solemn, as they gave their sympathy to Thranduil, who simply nodded. He never showed any emotion at all, despite the pain on a few of his childrens' faces.

Elrond had not approached him, for he knew his offer would not be accepted. There was bitter blood between the two Elves, though the exact reason remained a mystery to many.

The youngest Elven children were being minded by an Elven maid, who kept them occupied, while the older Elves mingled amongst each other. She did her best to keep them quiet, so that they would not disturb this sad occasion.

Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn had taken every precaution to prevent violence from occurring at what should be a very sad event. The tension was mounted high in the air, however, and everyone could feel it. But it was better than if the mourning ceremony had taken place somewhere that was not neutral.

Glorfindel stood close to Elrond, ready to watch the Elven lord's back if need be. The Elves of Mirkwood had a slight advantage with the many who had come to mourn the loss of their queen. Yet, Elrond had not responded to the insults that Thranduil gave him. He refused to quarrel in Lothlorien, in front of the parents of his wife.

The Elves of Mirkwood looked ready to kill, which do not aid in relieving the tension. Elrond had watched his words carefully today, knowing that one word given in the wrong tone of voice, or one action perceived to be threatening could ignite the spark of battle among everyone.

Thranduil eyed Elrond Half-Elven coldly, before turning his gaze. He did not wish a fight in Lothlorien, either. But the Elven king did not refrain from constantly insulting the Half-Elf. Thranduil thought it was a sign of weakness that Elrond kept his composure, no matter what he said or did.

'I do not like this,' Glorfindel murmured quietly to Elrond. 'Most of them have their hands on the hilts of their swords.'

'Ignore it,' Elrond answered. 'We will not engage in another argument. Not with such sad news, Glorfindel.' He glanced over at the hard-faced children who stood by their equally hard and stubborn father.

Glorfindel nodded slowly. 'The Lord and Lady should be here soon.'

Elrond said, 'I know. Tis only for a few more hours, however.' He bit back a sigh, as one of Thranduil's oldest sons made a rude gesture at him. The young twin sons of Elrond made the gesture back, until their father sternly reprimanded them, and sent them over to where the other children were.

The sounds of an unhappy child finally pierced through the crowds. A young voice wailed, and Elrond curiously searched around for the one who was crying.

A small, golden-haired Elf was being cradled in the arms of the Caretaker, who looked around desperately, as the cries only grew louder. Quite of a few of the older Elves scowled towards the child, who rubbed his eyes as he wept.

This was supposed to be a solemn affair, after all. The death of an Elf was not taken lightly.

Thranduil made a face at the crying child. He held the small boy's blanket, for he thought the child too old for such a thing. Thranduil had taken it from him, and the little one had began sobbing. The Elven King rolled his eyes and dropped the blanket on the ground, before stalking away.

Elrond heard Thranduil mutter, 'Crybaby.'

The Half-Elf saw that the little boy was crying harder now, and Elrond knew very well why the child was crying. He recognized the signs of a sleepy child anywhere. Elrond gestured to Glorfindel, before walking over and picking up the blanket.

The female Elf was getting more desperate, until Elrond turned to her, and reached for the child. The Caretaker gratefully handed him over, practically shoving him into Elrond's arms.

The blue-grey eyes happened to glance behind the dark-haired Elf, and saw Thranduil approaching again. His options were very few, so he instantly clung to Elrond, sniffling.

The Half-Elf wrapped the blanket around the child, and whispered comforting words to him. A tiny hand reached up and touched Elrond's face, as the little boy snuggled into the older Elf's warm arms sleepily.

'Father's going to hit me,' the boy whispered, as he yawned. 'I made him mad…'

'No one will hit you, child,' Elrond murmured back, sensing the young one needed reassurance. 'This is a sad time for everyone.' He gazed in wonder at the adorable boy, who had flowing blond hair, and blue-grey eyes.

'Don't let him hit me,' the tiny child whispered.

Elrond smiled a little, not knowing of any father who would hit their child. Except for one, possibly, but this boy looked nothing like him. And surely Thranduil would not strike his own children.

'I won't,' the Half-Elven lord whispered back, as he supported most of the child's weight in his right hand, with his left hand holding him close. He carried the boy over to Glorfindel.

The boy, exhausted from all the crying, and from missing his nap, Elrond decided, clutched his blanket with one hand, and a strand of the Half-Elf's dark hair in the other, before he promptly fell asleep. He slept in the trusting innocence that most Elven children did.

Glorfindel eyed the child, amused slightly. 'He's a cute one, Elrond.'

Elrond nodded, as a small head burrowed in between his throat and his shoulder. 'Indeed.'

A quiet laugh left Glorfindel. 'He seems to like you.' He shook his head disapprovingly, thinking of what he had seen Thranduil do to the boy. 'Must the King of Mirkwood upset everyone?' he questioned in a low voice, so none heard him except for the Half-Elf.

'Glorfindel…' Elrond said, a stern note in his voice. He felt the little boy shift in his arms, and held him tighter.

Glorfindel was properly chastened. 'I know, Lord Elrond,' he said, hiding a sigh.

Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were beginning to make their entrance, so most of the Elves gathered around the staircase the two were descending from.

The Lady of 'Lorien was dressed in a shimmering white gown, with her long, flowing blond hair behind her. The Lord was wearing a matching outfit, and the two had their hands clasped together as they descended gracefully.

As always, Elrond was stunned by how the two Elves perfectly matched each other. They looked good together, he thought to himself.

Lady Galadriel's impassive face said nothing, as her gaze swept over everyone, leaving most slightly shaken. She paused for a few moments on Elrond, seeing the golden child in his arms.

Elrond did not flinch away, but met the gaze solemnly. After a few moments, she looked at the rest.

'We are saddened that you were all brought here on such a grievous matter,' Celeborn said regally. 'Our sympathy goes to you, King Thranduil of Mirkwood, and your children.'

Thranduil nodded silently. His thoughts were his own, as he watched Elrond holding the sleeping child. If the Lord and Lady had not entered when they had, he would have yanked the child away and put him back with the other children.

It was a sad fact of life that the young child was of no concern to his father, being the smallest and a seeming nuisance, especially when he cried. Thranduil usually pretended that his son did not exist, as he was doing now. The child was nothing but a brat, in his opinion. At long last, his other children had grown to obey him, but the smallest had not yet learned. He would, however, Thranduil thought grimly.

Elrond felt intense scrutiny from someone and glanced around. 'Glorfindel, can you see who is watching me?' he whispered in a low voice.

Glorfindel looked around casually. 'The king of Mirkwood is glaring at you and the boy,' he said in a low tone.

Lady Galadriel invited the guests to come and eat, but delayed Elrond from departing. Glorfindel led Elrohir and Elladan, but glanced back at the Elven lord, who was detained. As soon as the others had left, she looked at him gravely.

'Do you know whose child you are holding?' Galadriel questioned, her voice neutral. Her expression was unreadable, as always.

Elrond said, 'No, I do not.' He glanced at the sweet child who blissfully slept in his arms.

Galadriel said, 'He is King Thranduil's youngest son, Elrond. His name is Legolas Greenleaf.'

To be continued