Musings of Thranduil Elvenking

   Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, stood in the darkness beyond the open door and looked thoughtfully into the brightly lit room. Unseen by its occupants, he watched as Teithoron, his faithful scribe, leaned over his seated charge's shoulder and patiently explained some aspect of writing Daeron's Runes in soft murmurs, and Legelion replied in his young piping voice. The boy had a long quill held delicately in his small hand, and in lifting it from the parchment, he unwittingly stabbed its feathered end up into the nostril of his mentor. Teithoron sprang back with a cry of surprise, and the boy squealed with laughter!

   'At least he is clean', the king thought to himself. When he had first met Legelion, the child was recently returned from playing along the riverbank and had been covered in filth. Remembrance of that chance meeting caused the king to sigh heavily; it had been... undignified. The boy had delighted in regaling the tale to Teithoron afterwards, and as the scribe had dutifully recounted to the king, his exact words had been, 'I nutted the king!'^[1] while tears of laughter ran down his grimy cheeks. In fairness, the child had not known at first into whom he had run headlong, but Thranduil had expected contrition thereafter... fear even; not unbridled mirth.
   Yes, the child was insolent and proud, but then he was of a proud and headstrong people. It was nigh six and a half thousand years of the Sun since this remnant of the Laegrim of Ossiriand had fled the desolation of their homeland and mingled with the Tawarwaith who had long dwelt here in Rhovanion, yet still they deemed themselves to be Laegil, a clan apart. Their nominal leader, Echeleb was the proudest and most headstrong of them all, and it was no wonder that his son's son had inherited his willful nature.

   Ah, Echeleb... would that he and his folk had not joined with their Teleri cousins so many centuries ere the coming of Oropher's Sindar to Eryn Galen. Had they but arrived together, mayhap he would be not just an ally of the Elvenking, but a friend also. But he and his kin were already deep-rooted in the Greenwood when the father of Thranduil and his household of Iathrim had come hither; and when they had taken the mantle of lords of the Wood-elves, Echeleb had not brooked their 'interference' well. But he had not rebelled, and he yet abides the rule of the Grey-elves so long as his kindred are free to live their lives as they please; for despite his misgivings of the Elvenking, he is honourable and will do whatever is needed to safeguard the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood.

   Thranduil's reverie was broken by a shrill cry of triumph from within, and he espied Teithoron beaming at some small success on Legelion's part. The boy himself was standing crowing with delight upon his chair with his thin arms raised above his head as if in hard-won victory, and so small was his stature that his head still only stood at shoulder height to the scribe. The king smiled to himself; truth be told, Thranduil had grown fond of the boy despite their awkward introduction, and it was pleasing to have an Elf in the first spring of childhood about the palace; the vitality of his young spirit shone a light in its underground vaults, and brought forth a remembrance of bygone days of peace when there were wedding feasts aplenty and the offspring of the Eldar were many.
   Yet when Teithoron had first told him of the heedless child he had discovered in the act of pilfering a book from the scribe's own collection, the king thought only that the boy should be punished and forbidden thereafter from his Halls. But Teithoron had besought his mercy and henceforth encouraged Legelion to visit him in his chamber, and thus had he won the boy's friendship and trust. He had told his liege lord of these visits and the child's unquenchable curiosity for tales of lore, but the king did not care overmuch for his scribe's new pet, and thus it was that at their first encounter he harboured no little ill-will towards the boy.

   But Teithoron had since accounted all his dealings with Legelion, and Thranduil had harkened to the scribe's report with great interest, for he at last discovered the cause of his petty theft: caught red-handed the boy had unashamedly confessed that he could not read the stolen book, but it was his will that he should learn to do so, and with its aid he deemed he would teach himself. Teithoron had felt pity for the waif, and took it upon himself to be as a mentor to him, and had since been much impressed by the keen diligence that the boy had shown in his determination to master the arts of reading and writing.
   Thus the king had Legelion brought to him, and in speech with him he noted that the boy had also made great effort in learning to speak pure Sindarin, and he now spoke the tongue well enough, albeit with a Silvan accent and mingled with the common dialect of the people of his realm. Yes, Legelion was indeed a precocious child, and Thranduil found his eagerness to embrace the wisdom of the Sindar endearing; of course, it would not do for the boy to know this, besides he would probably resent being in the king's favour, just on principle! Although it would be amusing to hear his retort...

   For, he admitted to himself, on the few occasions he had spoken with the boy, he had enjoyed their verbal sparring; Legelion was no fawning flatterer and was undaunted by his crown, nor was he afraid to express himself freely. Thranduil oft wondered if perhaps Echeleb's standing within the Laegrim clan was seen to be as equal to that of a king by his son's son, and thus in his heart the boy deemed himself a princeling.
   So musing, the king returned his attention to the two Elves -- one Grey, one Green -- in the chamber beyond. All was silent now save for the scratching of quill upon parchment and the measured bumping of Legelion's bare heels against the legs of his chair, his short legs swinging half a yard above the carpet, his head down and slim shoulders hunched over, the tip of his pink tongue protruding from the corner of his mouth in concentration.
   A princeling indeed! The king almost laughed aloud at the thought; but then, why not? Legolas was predisposed towards the Laegil, and Legelion had spoken of his son's past visit to their dwelling-place with pride and fondness... and loyalty. To win the fealty of such a true-hearted Green-elf would indeed be a boon, as much for its own sake as the boy's influence with Echeleb and the others of his kin. Yes, he would henceforth encourage Legolas' friendship with these folk.
   For rumour had come that in the East the Wild Men were restless, and looking to the West they saw only enemies to be slain and plundered; and in  Thranduil's heart fear spoke that the horror of Mordor was not forever conquered, and that it would again arise in hatred. In days yet to come he deemed his scattered people would need all their strength united in the defence of their woodland home.

   Legelion was now prattling merrily to Teithoron, his high young voice fluting like a songbird, the scribe nodding sagely at the boy's chatter. Thranduil was surprised to find within himself a curious desire to know what it was that Legelion was saying.
   Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, he moved away from the door; he could tarry here no longer; he had a kingdom to keep.

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[1] As forest dwellers familiar with nuts of many kinds, it is almost certain that the obvious similarity between the tree-fruit and a Wood-elf's head (and testicles) would have featured in their vernacular. I venture that they indeed coined the slang that is still in use today!

It should be noted that this tale is set in the 2977th year of the Third Age, when Legelion was but twelve years of age; also that these anecdotes are not in strict chronological order.

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