A/N: Why hello, everyone! It's a pleasure to meet you all. I am Solo-Lizard, otherwise just known as Lizard, or a variety of other names. This is my first real venture into the world of LotR (well...there was that period in fourth grade...but that wasn't a good thing *shudders*) and I thought I would start with a little Thranduil angst. Because he doesn't get enough ;) I'm no expert on Lord of the Rings, sadly, so if this seems AU then...my apologies.

I was just rewatching all the movies and I suddenly wondered: what did Thranduil think of Legolas' decision? Because...to me it didn't look like the silly little elf really had planned the whole thing out, he just sort of...impulsively made his own executive decision. Thus this little fic was born.

Just as a warning, there is an OC in this. I did my best to keep his role minimal, and there are mentions of three other OCs, but only brief. This is my version of the Mirkwood royal family, I may or may not ever write something on them again, but that's not important right now :)

Disclaimer: I do not own any material from the Lord of the Rings franchise. I am merely toying around with the characters a bit ;) All mistakes are my own.

Deep within the stone walls of his mighty elven fortress, the Elven King leant over the desk in his study, pouring over the many maps spread across it. Thranduil was in a foul mood, his people were losing ground against their ever-present foes yet again. Once more he was forced to draw the new boundaries to his realm, and this was naturally not something that made him all that affable. So when there was a somewhat hesitant knock on the door he had to force down the rather un-kingly string of curses that threatened to pour out.

Taking a moment to shove down his misplaced irritation, he barely glanced up.

"Enter."

The door whispered open, and was shut again a moment later with a soft click.

This time he did lift his eyes for just a moment to see who dared to enter his sanctuary at such a time. A tall, willowy figure stood awkwardly just past the threshold. Dark hair pulled into a mass of small braids and piercingly blue eyes gave away instantly his intruder, although he barely needed the tell-tale signs to recognize his own son.

"Borondor, what is it?" he asked, perhaps a bit more aggressively than he had intended.

His middle child shifted awkwardly, Thranduil imagined he had probably flinched.

"News has come from Imladris, Adar," he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

That caught his attention. As much as it had pained him, Thranduil had sent his youngest son away to the council of Elrond nearly three weeks prior. It had been requested that a proper representative of Mirkwood's royal family be sent, which translated to a member of the royal family. Unfortunately, all of his other children weren't able. His only daughter, and coincidentally his eldest offspring, was not suited to such a journey and would serve better healing those who needed her care at home. The crown prince Thólarod had far too much to attend to as the second highest authority in their land, commanding troops and attending meetings and everything in between. Borondor himself was wildly busy with directing multiple patrols and gathering information on their enemy, his skills in stealth unmatched and irreplacable. That left either Bellorn or Legolas, and Bellorn was far more a tactician than one fit for such a journey.

Legolas was the only one whose duties could be passed on to another, too young to have found so much authority as his siblings, too old to use his age as an excuse to stay home. And of course, he had wanted to go anyways.

So the baby of the family was sent off on some fool's journey to listen in on some secret council being held by the Lord of Imladris. Needless to say, Thranduil had been waiting rather impatiently for some time.

"Well? What has happened?" he demanded, straightening to fix his green gaze on the young elf before him.

Borondor was refusing to meet his stare, never a good sign, "They have found the Ring of Power. They intend to destroy it in the cracks of doom, and a group, a Fellowship I believe they called it, has been put together to take it there," here he glanced briefly at his father's face, presumably to gauge his reaction, "It is being carried by a hobbit, named Frodo Baggins I believe."

Thranduil's eyebrows arched upwards, recognizing that name immediately. Some relation, perhaps? He recovered quickly though and shook his head with a scowl. It was not his concern, after all.

"They shall all perish, it is a fool's quest," he turned back around, fingers sliding over his maps again, "I do have a question though, why do you bring me this news? Did I not send your brother?"

Borondor made an odd noise of discomfort, and his fidgeting increased, "Ah…that is actually why I am telling you. Legolas…is not coming back," Thranduil abruptly spun back around in a near panicked motion, and the younger elf quickly amended his words, "Yet. He's not coming back yet."

Thranduil felt himself unintentionally relax, and he sagged back against the edge of the desk a bit, "Would you care to tell me why?"

Borondor looked about ready to say No but apparently thought better of it.

"He…well he's always been rather impulsive…I guess he must have gotten caught up in the moment…or maybe he just knew you'd say no…of course I suppose Estel is there so that may be why…or it could be he's just that stupid…," he kept rambling, growing increasingly uncomfortable by the minute.

Thranduil scowled and pushed off the desk, drawing himself to his full height. Granted Borondor easily challenged him in that department, but he still didn't have quite the same presence and seemed to shrink away from his very agitated father.

"Spit it out, Borondor. Where is Legolas?"

His voice was like a growl of thunder, and when Borondor replied he only managed to sound like an injured mouse.

"He…," here he managed the fastest string of words Thranduil had ever heard.

Thranduil blinked.

Then he glared.

"Say that again…slower."

Borondor took a deep breath, rolled his eyes upward to avoid the incensed gaze of his father, and spoke slowly and clearly, "I said he went with the Fellowship of the Ring to take the ring to Mordor. He's…on that fool's quest you mentioned earlier."

Borondor was a warrior. All of Thranduil's children were. They, as all who lived in the darkness of Mirkwood, had been trained from a young age to defend themselves against the evils in their forest. He was by no means the strongest of his siblings, although he could be called the fastest, and he was currently the most proficient with a bow, at least until Legolas surpassed him. He was strong, charming, and brave. He could face down an army of orcs on wargs without so much as batting an eye. And right now…he was desperately cowering against the door as his father unleashed his entire unholy wrath on the hapless messenger.

"He did what?" Thranduil's voice boomed through the stronghold.

Borondor grimaced and pulled away, "I'm sorry! No one was there who could stop him!"

"No one was there? What about Lord Elrond, shouldn't he have been able to stop him?" Thranduil snarled, now effectively pacing the small room.

Borondor watched him with wide eyes, probably trying to decide whether he should try to make a run for it, "Ah…well technically yes…I suppose?"

"Then why didn't he?"

"Uh…."

"He's still scarcely more than a child! He cannot go on such a task! It's suicide!" Thranduil's voice was verging on hysteria now, "What was he thinking?"

Borondor for some reason felt like that warranted a response.

"Well… he is a very talented warrior, perhaps they could use him…?"

He trailed off when his father turned around to fix his murderous glower on him. He made a very undignified squeak and scooted further away.

"A child, Borondor, he is not a warrior! Elrond has plenty of capable hands to call on, why must he send my son?" Thranduil snorted and took up his pacing again, "He is going to take away my youngest child, that foolish, arrogant, Valar-forsaken orc waste!"

"That's a very...ah...interesting description," Borondor sounded like he really wasn't sure what to say, not realizing that he probably shouldn't say anything at all.

His father, however, ignored the comment, if he heard it at all, "I can not have my son traipsing all over Arda like some drunken dwarf! This is madness!"

Borondor tapped his fingers on the wall, flinching at that last comment, "He will be alright, hir nin."

A disbelieving scoff met the words even as the king came finally to a stop, facing the blazing fire in the hearth.

"No, Borondor, he will not. No one goes on such a journey and returns unscathed," Thranduil's voice was suddenly not so angry but more…tired, "He knows not what he is doing. He will surely either die or lose himself in some darker way in this venture."

Borondor now looked completely torn. He was normally quite eloquent and sauve with his words, and the one his siblings often came to for comfort or advice, but now he was desperately confused. How he wished Thólarod hadn't been so busy, or even Nimthel! She would have known what to say…. His father had been standing very still for some time now, and he telt a small bolt of concern.

"Ada?" he called softly, taking a cautious step forward.

Thranduil sighed softly, "Go now Borondor, you have your work to attend to."

His son hesitated, not sure if he should really leave, but after a moment he relented, stealing out into the hallway like a ghost, and leaving his father alone.

Thranduil gazed into the dancing flames without any notice of their patterns. His mind was elsewhere, on his wayward son, the most impetuous of all his children. He didn't have the prophetic gifts of the White Lady of Lothlorien, but he didn't need them to see the darkness his child was going into. He knew what Legolas would face, he knew that he would never again be able to see the world the same. The king, feeling suddenly very old, could only pray to the Valar that his family's "baby" would be returned safely to them.

He turned away from the flames, and back to his work.

And that's a wrap ;)

Ada = Dad/Daddy
Hir nin = my lord

Imladris is another name for Rivendell.

If anyone's curious, because my sister was surprised by it, Borondor is the only of the siblings with dark hair. He is also the tallest, and most amiable. Personally, he's my favorite of the OCs ;)

Reviews are much loved!