The Fellowship—minus Gandalf, who had elected to stay in Gondor (and Boromir, who was kinda dead)—had just traveled to Eryn Lasgalen. They had decided to see Mirkwood before they would split from each other for an undetermined amount of time. There were many places that they could have gone, but Legolas had been very excited to see his home free of Shadow and the others in the Fellowship—Aragorn, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo—either had never been to the realm known widely as Mirkwood or did not know much about their elven companion.

On the way there, Legolas had alternated between touching every tree they had come across in greeting and riding his horse in a contented manner with a serene expression on his face. Gimli's grumbles had gotten so unintelligible that half the time he did not even understand himself. Aragorn had contemplated at length why it was that he had never visited his friend in the past. The hobbits were just happy and drinking in the sight of the forest at every opportunity.

Now they were all standing in front of a set of wooden double doors to the King's throne room. The doors opened, and they all walked in as quietly as they could—for some reason all except Legolas were nervous. The doors slammed behind them. Walking forward, the Company got their first sight of King Thranduil. He was fair; his hair golden and eyes a glittering blue. He looked remarkably like his son, except that he looked sterner; older. Where Legolas had eyes filled with happiness, calm, and wonder, his fathers were unreadable. They could just as easily be seen as wrathful or joyful. The Fellowship thought that they should be terrified, and some of them were.

They formed a line horizontal unconsciously so they were all facing the King. Legolas was in the middle with Aragorn and Gimli on either side.

Thranduil's stared at his son stoically. Legolas twitched. "My son." His voice, same as his eyes, revealed nothing.

It seemed to the non-elves in the Company that he had simultaneously uttered a greeting as well as a command, for without hesitation Legolas strode forward two long steps toward his father and kneeled before him in supplication that his companions did not expect. Legolas went down on both knees, sat on his heels, and pressed his forehead to the cold stone floor. "My King."

Even Aragorn was startled by the formality of their greetings, for he had never been greeted thus by Lord Elrond in all his years. He had not thought that it would be this different with Wood Elves. The silence stretched until Gimli felt he was going to snap and the hobbits were hard pressed to keep from fidgeting. Aragorn stood with the patience of an elf.

Then… the King erupted.

"I sent you to a Council to bring information of the creature Gollum's escape! Not to join a group of cannon fodder to go traipsing around, waiting for your death to catch you!" Thranduil's face contorted peculiarly in his rage, and his voice was so loud that it rang in the watchers of the scene's ears. "You have always been foolish! Stupid and foolish! This just proves how much you have not matured!

"Maybe you need to spend a couple hundred years in the dungeons in order to curb your impulsive idiocy! You are over one thousand years old!" The hobbits gasped; Gimli stared. "You are too old to be gallivanting wherever you please!"

He went on like this for a long time. He insulted Legolas' intelligence, character, and judgement. He wondered out loud if he was fit to be a Prince of his realm, or if he had been hit on the head at one point in his life and never recovered. All through the verbal abuse that his father was throwing at him, Legolas remained in his kneeling position. He barely moved besides the slight shake of his shoulders.

The Fellowship saw this shaking, and knew he was crying. How could he live with this rage-filled elf for a thousand years? They all wanted to protest what King Thranduil was saying and defend their friend, but they were guests in his kingdom. It was not their place.

Thranduil's rant finally petered out and all that could be heard was the stifled noises Legolas was making from his place on the ground. The King looked much calmer. What happened next was odd and none of the Fellowship—besides Legolas—would ever understand it.

Legolas lifted his dry face, looked at his father, and laughed—he had been shaking with silent laughter, not sobs. He stood up fully and asked in amusement, "Do you feel better now?"

Thranduil nodded. He stepped away from his throne and stood right in front of his son. He placed his hands on either side of Legolas' face and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. Both closed their eyes, and the previously unnoticed tension in the Kings shoulders and face eased until all his face showed was peace. Legolas' face reflected his father's exactly.

That was their reunion, no matter how odd.