Rating: PG
Pairings: Elrond/Legolas, Thranduil/Gil-galad; Elrond/Gil-galad mentioned.
Summary: 5-year-old Legolas learns an important lesson on self-acceptance and falls in love. He also meets 5-year-old Haldir for the first time.
Feedback: Yes please
Series: Little Legolas Adventures
Warnings: quite non-canon I think, with brief mention of an mpreg
Elrond tried hard not to giggle as he observed Thranduil, magnificent and lovely as usual in jewels and threads so rich as to befit a dwarf king's ransom, with wild little Legolas next to him.
Legolas was about five, a little chubby, but not half way as winningly fat as Thranduil might have liked. (Elves tended to get very slender and wiry in adulthood, and a plump one was considered exotically rare and lovely, as Gil Galad had been with his prominent lower belly roll. Elf parents tended to over feed their little ones, hoping to pad them up adequately into becoming fat adults - they rarely succeeded).
The little prince was dressed in rich fur leggings, leather boots and a plush velvet and gem embroidered outer tunic over an inner tunic of blue silk. He wore an intricately designed gold belt clasped around his middle, dangling sapphire globes at his ears and a small tiara about his dark head, with a tear drop shaped sapphire coupled with a round diamond settled delicately in between his dark brows. You never saw a more miserable elf child.
Every few seconds, when his father was distracted with greeting another guest, he would vigorously shake his head in the childish hope that his tiara or ear-rings would fly off and stop irritating him.
His head shaking got increasingly more violent, and it soon seemed like he was performing a little dance, vibrating all over.
Finally, with a stifled mewl of despair, he grabbed his tiara in his nimble little hands and rotated it, so the annoying gems between his eyes now fell over his left ear. He sighed, standing still for a moment. Much better!
"Legolas!" Thranduil snapped.
Legolas started. His father was never so harsh with him.
Legolas looked up, eyes wide with dismay, and Thranduil's heart melted.
"Legolas, this is Haldir of Lorien -- his father is the representative of the Lord and Lady of Lorien at tonight's feast," said his father, more gently this time.
Legolas looked at the elf child standing in front of him, and was suddenly acutely embarrassed.
Five-year-old Haldir was perfect, simply perfect. From his round little belly, full, puffy cheeks and wide blue eyes; to his pristine, fashionable clothes and ramrod straight posture, to the immaculate little braids criss-crossing his -- perfectly blonde! -- head to the tiara in his hair. He even had little rouge stains on his plump cheeks, and they remained there, softly pink and not affected by sweat or naughty fingers at all.
Legolas was completely abashed. He tried to pull straight his tiara and adjust his outer tunic, which had bunched up around his chest with his gold belt in all his contortions, the little prince not having an ample enough belly to hold it suitably down.
His ear-rings got caught in the embroidery of his sleeves, and soon Legolas was flashing his noble born audience with his furry leggings as his inner and outer tunic rode up further. His belt slid further upwards into wee armpits.
Little Haldir was appalled. What an unbelievable hooligan Prince Legolas was!
He immediately gave a snooty look to his adoring father, who smirked approvingly back. Haldir smugly gave his own hair the most genteel almost-pet, not actually touching anything, but merely to draw adoring eyes to his elaborate hairdo and perfectly arrayed head ornaments, with his fat little hands.
He was always stylish, tidy, and the prettiest elf child at any function. And the chubbiest, he was proud to add to his list of achievements.
Thranduil chuckled at Legolas. He had always been beautiful, ferocious, skilled in both the bedchamber and battlefield, and he couldn't care less about the opinions of those who thought themselves his betters, especially the Lorien "high-noses." He held his land without the benefit of any ring, and Gil Galad had picked him and fathered a child on him (Thranduil being a rare bi-gender elf, which explained his extraordinary androgynous beauty despite his very masculine personality); when all elfdom had scrabbled for attention at the High King's revered feet.
He thought Legolas was just as amused by fatty Haldir's, and fatty Haldir's not-so-fatty father's, ridiculous posturing, as he was. He couldn't imagine anyone not adoring Legolas and thinking him sweetest of all, especially Legolas himself, for the fair little elf child wielded a despot's sceptre in his doting father's heart if he only knew it.
Elrond, however, who was silently watching the scene from a small distance, had a deeper understanding of Legolas's agony. He himself had been an awkward half human adolescent, trying to fit into the finest of elfin society as Gil Galad's consort - before time and Thranduil had come between them. It was never apparent, but Elrond had spent hours learning to groom, practising his walk, memorising elf lore, practising his swordplay - all to earn Gil Galad's lofty affections.
Poor Legolas was in an embarrassing tangle, and Thranduil was too thick to notice. Well, diplomacy and tact had never been the king's best talents.
Elrond had never hated Thranduil, different as they were. By the time Gil Galad took the then Prince of Greenwood the Great as a lover, his relationship with Elrond had long become more a meeting of minds, devoid of the great sexual passion that had characterised their earlier days. The only thing Elrond envied of Thranduil was little Legolas, that piece of Gil Galad that he himself could never have.
Elrond excused himself from his party with flawless grace and strode over to Legolas. He picked up the elf prince, and then daintily unhooked sleeve threads from interfering ear-rings, smoothed and pulled down little robes, and then finally readjusted the golden belt around the sweetly, but not fully, chubby tummy.
The tiara posed a bit of a problem, and Elrond finally decided to pull it off Legolas and rearrange the braids as best he could.
"Maybe I should keep this," Elrond said, smiling at Legolas.
"Yes please!" Legolas said relieved. His smile rivalled the Summer sun, and Elrond gave a rare chuckle. The little elf prince had the power to move him, even without intent. And he had thought his heart so cold for so long.
Legolas tried to pawn off his ear-rings on his saviour as well, but a small frown from his father stopped him. If Thranduil had his way and Legolas weren't so naughtily energetic, the child would have been covered from head to toe in jewels. No tiara was bad enough, no ear-rings was intolerable!
Fat little Haldir had curtseyed and batted his eyelids rapidly for some time in a desperate attempt to impress this towering, magnificent leader of Rivendell - to no apparent effect. Elrond only graced him with a measured smile after long moments petting and soothing Legolas, before sweeping majestically after Thranduil to the head table of the function.
Haldir hated not being adored! He was also jealous that Legolas got carried and bossily threw up his arms in his father's direction. But his father was busily trying to endear himself to Elrond (whom it was said was soon to be the Lord and Lady of Lorien's son-in-law and therefore worthy of some fawning, admiring comments) - and for once ignored his cosseted and spoilt darling.
Haldir would have stomped his feet if he hadn't been so elegantly dressed, and he was in a filthy temper when his father finally loaded him onto his tall child's chair.
At the U-shaped high table, Legolas sat between Elrond and Thranduil, who sat at the head, while a sulking Haldir sat on the other side of the king, with his father beside him.
Legolas, well relieved at the absence of his tiara and its dangling jewels, beamed in excitement as a basket of sweet appetiser buns was served. Legolas liked all sweet buns, although he liked his father's strawberry dessert buns best (hence his nickname baby-bun, which was a nonsense word and affectionate pet name created by Thranduil to encapsulate how he felt about his beloved Legolas: "sweet-as-a-bun-baby"; "sweet-bun-loving-baby"; and the most private, "Gil-Galad's bun/baby.")
The bun basket stopped at Haldir. Legolas made a quick mental calculation: Haldir's father had taken two, so if Haldir too took two, and Thranduil and Elrond took one each (the adults didn't like sweets that much) that would leave four for Legolas. Just nice.
Legolas's mouth opened in dismay as Haldir helped himself to four buns, daintily of course. The adults smiled and nodded approvingly, a nice healthy appetite - it boded well for him retaining his charming chubbiness into adulthood.
Legolas was even more distressed to see Thranduil helping himself to two buns, and then doling out a measly two buns to Legolas before passing the last to Elrond.
Legolas knew Elrond would share his buns if he had had two; his only hope now was to pinch one from his father. He had to eat quickly then.
He rammed the first bun whole into his little mouth, and chewed frantically, all the while keeping an eye on the pristine untouched second bun on Thranduil's plate - the king was taking his time with his first bun.
Legolas had a tough time swallowing his first bun, and lost valuable time. He decided to divide his second bun into two portions. As he chewed vigorously on the second, he was alarmed by the sight of Haldir's empty plate!
Haldir ate in a series of very quick, very dainty nibbles - he had been well trained from babyhood. So he could consume vast amounts of food very quickly, without ever being seen gobbling or having too full a mouth. It was quite impressive, and Thranduil grinned at the fat little elf child, highly amused.
He knew his baby-bun liked to enjoy his treats more slowly - hence the less than satisfactory waistline - and was quite particular about his food. He would much rather be hunting food with his baby-bow - a weapon with much less power and range than a real bow, so arrows would only kill small game used for practise, and not inadvertently shot palace guards, relatives and guests -- than eating it.
Legolas swallowed his last mouthful...
"Here, Haldir, have another bun," Thranduil said, offering the child his second bun.
Haldir beamed. It was quite a compliment to be offered food off a king's plate even if the king's child was a hooligan.
He thanked Thranduil very prettily and a few seconds and many swift, dainty nibbles later, Legolas's coveted bun was in his ample belly.
Tears sprang to Legolas's eyes. There was proof his father didn't love him anymore! He loved perfect Haldir better and had given him his extra bun, which had always before been reserved for Legolas and Legolas alone. (In Legolas's childish despair, he failed to note that Thranduil had previously not entertained any children well born enough to sit at high table with him).
Legolas nursed this little hurt until it made him quite miserable throughout dinner. But he was a naturally quiet, serious child, and nobody really noticed - the adults being absorbed in conversation and Haldir being absorbed in eating as much as he could.
At the end of dinner, Thranduil sent Haldir and Legolas off to play together in a small grassy patch near the feasting area so he could keep an eye on his son. The guards on duty kept a protective eye on their prince too.
Haldir sniffed at Legolas imperiously and the prince felt embarrassed again for being such a social disgrace.
"Would you like to play at shooting targets?" Legolas asked brightly. "I can lend you a baby-bow and have the targets set up." It was his favourite game, other than baking sweet dessert buns with his father in the royal kitchen.
Usually, male elves did all the cooking while the women made the bread, but Thranduil had no Queen. So he personally baked the first of many large batches of buns distributed as gifts to the least of his people during feasts and celebrations, as part of his programme of largesse, a must for any good monarch.
Haldir sighed. "I don't know how you can suggest running around in good clothes after a meal. No wonder you are so skinny!"
And messy and dirty, thought Legolas. The hurt showed on his face, and Haldir felt a pang of guilt. Legolas was strangely sweet, not clever and a little cruel like the other sophisticated children of Lorien.
"Let's sit down and take turns reading," said Haldir.
Legolas drew up close to Haldir as he settled daintily onto the grass. He then produced a little book he always carried around - one never knew when a recital was required to entertain the adults.
Haldir gave an exquisite reading of a passage of an elfin children's tale, and then passed the book over to Legolas. Legolas peered at the book; the words were so small and complicated.
Legolas could outrun deer, ride galloping horses like an adult elf despite his small size and shoot small game at a hundred paces, but his reading was poor. He stumbled over a few words, until Haldir burst into giggles.
It was too much for the wee prince, and he ran away, his little heart breaking.
Haldir sat glued on the ground. What he had done was no worse than his regular bullying of other children in Lorien - the jostling for favour from the Lord and Lady began from babyhood - and he had to protect his position as most gifted and prettiest if he hoped to gain any standing at all in that leafy kingdom when he became an adult.
But Legolas was different. He seemed genuinely nice and well-meaning, not at all self-serving and over-polished. Haldir looked down at his fat hands. The prince had offered to lend him his baby-bow - what a generous gesture that was! Haldir would rather break his own baby-bows than lend them to anyone, lest the other child show him up by being a better marksman.
He trotted off to find Legolas (not too quickly of course, it might disrupt his digestion and make him skinny; or too hastily, you never knew who might be looking and admiring him at any moment).
Thranduil saw Legolas bolt into the forest, and stood up quickly, startling his company.
"Thranduil, let me go after him," said Elrond. He shook his head subtly at Thranduil, the king was perfectly ready to ignore protocol and leave his guests to go after his son. Elrond decided it really would be better for Thranduil if he placed a little more importance on tact.
Thranduil nodded at his friend in thanks, he knew Elrond could be trusted to find and soothe baby-bun. Maybe that Haldir child wasn't a suitable playmate, chubby and perfect though he was. He must have been very nasty to make precious baby-bun run off like that.
Haldir stared at the unfamiliar forest in dismay, and turned back to look at his father, who was hurrying forward with the magnificent Lord Elrond.
"Go back with your father, little Haldir," he said. "I shall go and look for Legolas."
The words were very cold, almost a reprimand, and Haldir shrank into his elegant robes.
Elrond could easily track the leaves disrupted from Legolas's childish run through the woods, and he found him hiding in the hole of great tree trunk. His ear-rings and belt and fine outer tunic had been discarded a little way away so he could squeeze into the small hole unencumbered.
Legolas cried quietly, not to draw attention or sympathy, but merely to soothe his own pain, and Elrond's heart ached at the sobs smothered by little hands, almost inaudible even to half-elfin ears.
"There now, little Greenleaf, why are you weeping on such a wonderful night?" Elrond asked.
Legolas stopped sobbing when he realised Elrond had spotted him in his hiding place, but he gave no answer.
"Surely you can tell me," Elrond said.
Legolas was deeply ashamed that such a revered guest had had to come into the woods after him.
However, he was amazed - and soothed - when a large, strong hand came into his little hiding place, bearing a sweet strawberry dessert bun from his father's feasting table.
In future years, Legolas loved holding Elrond's hands, looking at them and just feeling them. To him, their movements, so varied and often so well meaning, always so powerful -- healing hands, ruling hands, killing hands, loving hands -- were the finest reflection of his lover's noble spirit.
Elrond was pleased to feel little fingers take the bun, and soon soft sounds of slow bites emanated from the little hole.
He waited patiently until the bun was consumed and the sobs had faded. He did not force Legolas out of his hiding place.
"I don't think I'll ever be proper, not like Haldir," Legolas said softly.
"And why should you be like Haldir, Legolas? When you can shoot a bow and ride a horse; when you can touch hearts numbed by loss and time; when you can light your father's heart just by being?" Elrond asked.
"You are much loved Legolas, just as you are," Elrond said.
*And don't ever change, or let the burdens of life rob you of your wildness, and your heart, and your courage, for greatness has marked you for her own - I have foreseen it* Elrond silently added to himself.
"I'm skinny and messy and - and I can't read. I often vex father, I know it," Legolas said in a soft unhappy voice.
"So you are not greedy, not over decorated, and more a warrior than a bookworm. It is not a crime to be a little different from the other noble children, Legolas. You have a unique heart and it is in the right place; and everyday that you think you might be better for yourself and your father and your people, you become a little more heroic. But don't let doubts dominate you, Legolas, only let them inspire you to be the very best you can be," said Elrond, gently but with conviction.
"And choose your role models carefully, Legolas. I think one fatty snooty Haldir is more than enough for a whole generation of elves! As for Thranduil, Legolas, I don't think there is anything in the world you could ever do or not do to make him stop loving you best of all," Elrond said.
"Are you sure?" Legolas asked. He sounded comforted, and less disapproving of his own perceived failings. He trusted in Elrond's words, as Thranduil had learned to do when Gil Galad's death erased the uncomfortable, competitive nature of their acquaintance, and transformed it into a deep friendship.
"Positive," Elrond said.
A happy chortle from within the hole made Elrond smile. Good - Legolas was recovering his good cheer.
There would be many opportunities to teach him his letters and the finer points of conduct when he got older, but Elrond badly wanted Legolas's loving, brave, resilient and forgiving spirit to survive with him into adulthood.
They sat quietly for a while in each other's company, Elrond waiting quietly for Legolas to feel safe enough to come out on his own.
"Do you love me, Elrond? Even though I'm skinny...," Legolas began.
"Not greedy," Elrond interrupted. Legolas giggled.
"Messy...," the elf child added between giggles.
"Not over preened or vain," Elrond responded, calmly but with amusement creeping into his tone.
"And more a warrior than a bookworm," Legolas squealed in delight, feeling much better.
"You learn quickly, Legolas," Elrond said with a fond smile.
"So you love me?" Legolas asked again.
Elrond was so startled by the simplicity and directness of the question that he paused in mid-thought. Why would his feelings matter so much to the child?
"I love you Legolas," he said, and once spoken, he realised with a start that the words were true. "Very much and always. You need never ask me again; just know it to be true."
A moment later an armful of happy elf child hurtled into his lap. It had been a long time since Elrond's love had mattered so very much to anyone.
Legolas kissed Elrond on the cheek - a loud, wet and prolonged smack of a kiss, and all the more delightful for its lack of artfulness - and burrowed into his arms happily. After wriggling into a comfortable position, he said, somewhat cheekily, "When I need to hear it again, I shall ask you again!"
They laughed together then, both more than happy with the arrangement of Legolas's choosing.
Elrond didn't know it until centuries later, but it was at that very moment that Legolas decided in his constant, true heart, that Elrond and he were meant for each other -- forever and ever.
"What are they doing?" Haldir's father asked disapprovingly. At his darling's insistence, he had followed Elrond into the forest to look for Legolas.
Elrond was in his inner tunic and tights, divested of all jewellery and his trademark fine outer robes, and he was hopping on one foot following a set pattern apparently marked by twigs on the ground. The pattern consisted of very small squares and because he had an adult's feet, and half-human balance, he soon overbalanced and fell to the ground laughing.
Legolas then took his turn and hopped daintily into the squares, designed by Elrond for a nimble elf child's feet.
Haldir considered for a moment, and then, for the first time in his life, he risked his snobbish father's disapproval and raced forward.
"Can I play too?" Haldir asked.
Legolas looked at him suspiciously for a moment, but his good nature got the better of him and he welcomed his former rival with a smile.
Haldir's father just stood aghast as his precious slipped out of his elegant outer clothes, tiara and jewels; and was soon hopping along in the squares, like a commoner's child! His hair was soon in disarray and his rouge smeared unattractively across his chubby cheeks.
But the magical tinkle of Haldir's laughter - bursting from his belly naturally for once, not measured to amuse an audience - amazed and moved even his terribly proper and sophisticated father, and the elf did nothing to stop his child from playing with the little hooligan-prince.
He soon sat next to Elrond on the ground. The Lord of Rivendell held a baby tiara in his hand, with a dangling sapphire and diamond, and they both watched quietly, content beyond words, as Mirkwood worked its magic - and little Legolas and little Haldir laughed and played in the peaceful moonlight.
The characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. No profit is being made by the authors or the archivist and no disrespect is intented.
Do not post this work elsewhere without the author's consent.