The wind whistled through the tall trees, rustling the leaves that littered the forest floor. Small amounts of sunlight peeked through the thick tangle of branches above. A small group of elves made their way thought the forest, out for an afternoon walk. They were tall and fair beings, immortal and wise. Two walked hand in hand, with much love in their eyes. Thranduil was tall and proud, his long blonde hair swept back off his face by an intricate knot. A simple circlet rested on his head, mithril pattern of leaves and vines, showing his royal status. The she-elf beside him was just a bit shorter than he. Eáránë, his wife and the love of his life, watched their children playing just ahead. Her long black hair was unbound moved gently in the soft breeze. Before them ran three children, of all appearances being the ages of 2, 6, and 10. The elder two children each held a hand of their younger brother. The young elfling who toddled between his older brother and sister had the golden hair of his father, but his mother's clear blue eyes. He was the newest and last addition to the royal family.
The family made their way through the trees, listening to the sounds of the forest that was their home. To visiting elves and even humans, the woods were frightening and dangerous. The Sindarin elves, which lived in these woods, were quite comfortable, knowing the dangers of the forest and taking it along with the beauty. As they walked, Thranduil kept one eye on the surrounding forest. Even the king of Mirkwood did not go unarmed in his own forest. Watching his children laughing before him, Thranduil was reminded of the fact that they would be his only children. The birth of their last child, Legolas, had been hard on Eáránë. He had worried for his wife's health after the difficult delivery and they had decided that Legolas would be their last child. Lenwë and his sister Lessien led Legolas on, trying to coax him to take a few steps on his own without the help of one of their hands. Lenwë stepped a few paces ahead of the toddler, holding his hands out to his younger brother.
"Come on now, Legolas. You can do it! Just take a few steps and come to Len." Thranduil smiled at his eldest son and first child. He had inherited his mother's dark hair, as had his sister Lessien. Legolas was the only of the three to receive his own golden locks. Lessien gently pried one of her hands out of Legolas's, leaving him with only one finger to hold onto for balance. With a few more words of encouragement, Legolas reluctantly let go of Lessien's finger. Thranduil and Eáránë stopped to see what their youngest son would do. Freezing, not wanting to stop her little brother, Lessien watched as, slowly, Legolas determinedly set one foot in front of the other and took a few toddling steps into his brother's outstretched arms.
"You did it, dilthen gwador (little brother)! Ada! Nana! Did you see? Legolas took his first steps!" Lenwë scooped up his little brother and swung him round in a happy circle. Thranduil and Eáránë laughed at the sight of their children. Eáránë quickly came and claimed her youngest child from her son's grasp.
"What a grown up young elf, Legolas." She hugged her young son, turning to Thranduil. "I do believe a celebration is in order, don't you agree, my Lord?" Thranduil walked up to wrap one arm around his daughter and the other about his wife's slim waist.
"Yes, I do believe a celebration is in order. When we return to the hall, you all shall receive a surprise." He smiled at his wife. They had been waiting for a special occasion to give their presents to the children, and now they had good reason.
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