Legelion sat motionless upon an oak's broad bough, his back resting against its trunk with his knees drawn up beneath his chin. In his hands he held Cúlalf, his bow of elm, and he idly drew it's taut string between his toes. The usually cheerful child wore a sombre visage as he gazed out between the leaves at the green-shadowed woodlands beyond, his small brow furrowed deep in thought.
   For today the King of the Woodland Realm had summoned the boy before his throne, and not for the first time since their unseemly meeting in the dim passage of his Halls; but today had felt different. How so he was not certain, but there was an air about the king that had not been there before; still had he mocked Legelion's rustic kin as being little more than barefoot tree-dwellers, and had sent his "kind regards" to the rabbits that Legelion had named as friends, but the boy had become accustomed to Thranduil's goading and had replied in kind. This was not new, and indeed it had become merry sport for the boy (and oft he wondered if this was not true also for the king!)

   But as he pondered it came to his mind that there was a gentleness in Thranduil's speech that day which had not been there aforetimes. Perhaps it was that Legelion had for the first time used soley the tongue of the Sindar unmingled with his common Silvan speech, for much had he learned from his mentor in the long weeks of lessons with Teithoron.
   But the friendship and trust that he held in his heart for his teacher were not yet so deep that he could share his heart's misgivings about the king, for -- he oft reminded himself when his tongue was wagging -- the scribe was still a liegeman of the king, bound no doubt by oath; and also no doubt reported on all of Legelion's visits to his chamber. For how else could Thranduil have known his Mother-name that he had heedlessly given to Teithoron in the early days of their friendship?
   Nay, could not share his troubled thoughts with the scribe, yet with whom else could he confide? His father's father? Nay, Echeleb thought little of Legelion's friendship with the Sindar and less still for the king's designs upon the boy, of which he was greatly suspect. His father? Nay, his father seemed lately to be naught but a thrall of Echeleb, taking his father's side in all arguments. His mother's counsel he had sought, and she had listened carefully to his concerns with kindness and pity, but she too said it might be best for him to forgo the palace and abjure the friendship of Teithoron.

   Why was his kin so set against his desire to learn? His very mother who had named him Cethron, "Seeker", would now deny him seeking after something more than living as a common Wood-elf! 'But there is the thing', he thought, 'to be a Green-elf is to their minds already more than being a Silvan Elf.' Wherefore, they had wondered aloud, would he wish to learn of Sindar wisdom? Did they fear in their hearts that he hoped to somehow become a Grey-elf and would thus would forsake his kin?
   'Swarn Danas!' he cursed under his breath in the ancient tongue. He was proud of his Laegren line and he loved his kin beyond measure, whence then came this unfounded fear? Had they lost their wits? He knew well his place, and it was amongst the Laegrim!
   He sighed and his eyes followed as a plump brown wren landed on a branch stump alongside him, and perched there blithely watching him with a keen black eye. From it gushed forth a burst of sweet music, clear and shrill and Legelion laughed in delight. 'O!' he thought, 'what a merry and unburdened life you lead, little bird!'

   It was then of a sudden he understood his own heart's burden: this unseen change in the king. Unseen perhaps, but in his eyes it could be seen, if but for an instant. For there had been a single moment when Thranduil had looked upon him, and while his face remained stern and aloof as always, there gleamed in his eyes the pride of a father for his son! Nay! His eyes had surely deceived him... the king saw him always as naught but a Laegel waif, no more. He had oft said as much. But... if he had seen rightly, what could this forbode? If he could but read the king's heart...

The small wren sang on as the small boy dropped lithely to the ground below. The hour was late, and Legolas was due to visit Echeleb at their home-tree as had become his wont of late, and Legelion had grown to love the prince. Indeed, almost as a brother...

*        *         *

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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