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The Battle of the Five Armies had ended, but for Thranduil, it was not a moment of reprieve. In the silence of his chamber, he sat alone, weary and filled with pain, concealing it all behind a mask of royal dignity. His armor lay discarded on the floor, and his robes bore not only the color of blood but also the weight of exhaustion, a burden shared not only by warriors but by kings as well.Blood continued to seep from a wound on his side. Yet, despite the pain, Thranduil did not stir, nor did he utter a single word of complaint. He sat as still as a statue, his eyes gazing into the distance, as if trying to ignore a reality that was becoming increasingly inescapable.The door to the chamber opened softly, and across the threshold stepped Legolas. His gaze immediately fixed on his father. His heart wavered at the sight of the blood that still stained Thranduil’s body. Despite his own fatigue and the numerous wounds he had sustained, he could not turn away from what was happening to his father. In that moment, the dust, sweat, and blood of war ceased to matter—only the one who had been his role model for so many years remained.Legolas took a step forward, disregarding his father’s unspoken warnings. He approached Thranduil, breaking the heavy silence.— "Ada, let me help you." — His voice was calm, yet fear and worry laced his tone.Thranduil lifted his gaze, but there was neither anger nor rejection in his eyes—only something Legolas could not name. He held his father’s gaze for a moment, as if trying to understand what was happening to him, why this time Thranduil had not pushed him away.Legolas knelt beside his father, striving to steady his trembling hands. Carelessly, he discarded the belt that held his quiver. Finally, taking a deep breath, he set to work.His fingers slowly began undoing the ties of his father’s robe, exposing the wound on his side. Naturally, Thranduil tried to stop him with a pointed look, but Legolas did not relent. He had always known how much pain his father harbored within, but he had never dared to approach him so closely. Now, he could not bring himself to leave.Legolas’s hands were gentle as he began cleaning the wound, his eyes never straying from Thranduil, who seemed to be in a semi-conscious state. He tried to cause as little pain as possible, but he could not ignore the exhaustion and hurt visible in his father’s eyes.Then, suddenly, Thranduil lifted his hand and, almost unconsciously, tenderly ran his fingers through Legolas’s hair. The gesture was unexpected, filled with care—as though, in that single moment, all other concerns had faded, allowing him to embrace the closeness he had not experienced in years.Legolas froze, his head unmoving as he felt his father’s fingers gliding through his hair. He had never before received such tenderness from Thranduil, yet in this moment, it felt as though he had finally found something he had been searching for his entire life.Though emotions threatened to overwhelm him, Legolas refocused on his task. His hands returned to his father’s body, meticulously cleaning the wound and removing any debris. He felt closer to Thranduil than ever before. On one hand, it was simply a duty, an act of care. But on the other… on the other, it was a moment where their bond, long hidden and suppressed, began to take on new color.Thranduil, still gazing intently at his son, slowly moved his hand from Legolas’s hair to his cheek, as if testing whether his actions were appropriate. His fingers brushed against Legolas’s skin, and the younger elf closed his eyes momentarily, feeling all the tenderness he had always dreamed of yet had never been given.Legolas trembled, his breath growing increasingly irregular. This closeness, this touch—it all seemed to penetrate the deepest corners of his soul. Words failed him. His entire being responded in silence, immersed in this unknown yet undeniably intimate exchange of energy that only they could comprehend.Thranduil felt the tension between them mounting. Though uncertain of how it would all unfold, he knew this moment was what they both had been waiting for. Gently lifting his son’s chin, he tilted his face upward until their eyes met. He leaned closer, their faces so near that Thranduil could feel the warmth of Legolas’s breath.After a long silence, Thranduil’s voice, muted by emotion, broke through.— "Ernil nín… may I?" — he asked softly. His hands remained in place, holding his son tenderly, as if afraid any sudden movement might ruin everything.Legolas stared into his father’s eyes, his heart pounding harder than ever. His lips trembled slightly, and his mind was awash with thoughts he could not articulate. This was not an ordinary question; it was a request—a need to draw closer than ever before.Legolas did not answer immediately. He could not put into words what he felt at that moment. The situation was so extraordinary that his mind struggled to comprehend it. But he did not need to speak. His eyes, filled with both unease and longing, said everything.Seeing no resistance in his son’s gaze, Thranduil leaned closer still, and their lips met in a delicate yet profoundly tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with fear but also yearning—for closeness, for a love that had remained on the margins of their relationship for so many years. It was a kiss that spoke of a bond far deeper, more complex, and laden with unspoken desires than that of father and son.When their lips parted, silence enveloped the room once more. Thranduil continued to cradle Legolas’s face as if unwilling to let go, as if afraid he would vanish if he did.The younger elf felt a hot blush spread across his face. At that moment, it seemed as though all his emotions, repressed for years, had suddenly and unrelentingly burst forth. He flushed, though he wished this moment could remain quiet and unnoticed. Yet the touch of his father’s hand and the kiss that still lingered faintly on his lips made him feel, for the first time, like an ordinary youth—not a warrior.Thranduil, noticing his son’s flushed face and slight embarrassment, gently brushed his thumb across his cheek. It felt as though the space between them had shrunk even further, despite the vast distances of silence and years that had separated them.— "Tinu nín…" — Thranduil whispered, his gaze fixed on his son, who now avoided meeting his eyes. His own were filled with both unease and understanding.It was a moment he could have avoided for a lifetime, yet now it could not be undone. His breath was still unsteady, but he took a deep inhale, trying to calm his emotions.“I…” — he began quietly, his voice faltering, betraying him.Thranduil smiled faintly, seeing his son’s reaction. His hand rested on Legolas’s face, a gesture of reassurance and newfound intimacy. — "Calm yourself, Legolas. This was a moment… just for us."Legolas did not reply but felt his heartbeat steadying slightly. In this silence, in his father’s tenderness, he realized there was no need to explain himself anymore, no need to prove his strength. In this moment, he was only his son—his Legolas.He glanced at Thranduil's wound, reminded of why he was here.
"I need to finish tending to you," he said, trying, despite everything, to return to his role—the one familiar to him, the one that gave him a sense of control.His hands, still trembling, returned to the wound. He cleaned it once more, trying not to think about the kiss, about the intimacy that still resonated within his body. His fingers continued to brush against his father’s skin, a tangible reminder that this was real."You’ll need to rest," Legolas said, his voice calmer now, though still filled with concern. "You waited too long to have it treated. You’ve lost a lot of blood. I’ll have to call for a healer regardless."Thranduil nodded, knowing he couldn’t deny the truth. Yet he still felt an overwhelming pride in the fact that his son was with him, that for a moment, he didn’t have to be alone. Legolas had always been his strength, though now it was he who needed support.“I did what I had to…” Thranduil replied, though his words sounded weaker than usual, exhaustion and blood loss taking their toll.Legolas smiled faintly, though he still avoided looking directly at his father. “I know,” he replied softly. “But now it’s my turn to help you. From now on, I’ll be by your side.”Silence fell again as Legolas finished bandaging the wound with care. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing. Legolas wanted to say more but remained silent. What could be said in such a moment? Thranduil’s gaze held an emotion that seemed to convey what words could not.Legolas stood up and remained standing for a moment, looking at Thranduil, who shifted to lie down, his eyes calm as he gazed at his son. Thranduil noticed how, despite his exhaustion, Legolas still refused to grant himself permission to rest. He was certain that his son had needed a moment of respite for a long time, yet throughout his life, Legolas had never allowed himself such luxuries. Now, after everything that had happened—after the battles, the unrest, and the struggles—Thranduil could see something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before: weariness."Legolas," he said gently, his voice filling the space between them."I know you have duties, but you don’t need to prove anything right now. Rest; tomorrow is another day. Nothing is chasing us anymore."Legolas remained silent for a moment, still uncertain. He had always been a warrior, always adhered to principles that demanded action. He wondered if he deserved to rest or if he should stay vigilant, watching over his injured father. But Thranduil, noticing his hesitation, began to shift on the bed, making more space beside him and gently moving toward the edge."Come," he said calmly, extending his hand to him invitingly.His father’s words, filled with tenderness and understanding, reached Legolas. His body felt a weariness that he had not experienced in a long time, and his mind, though full of doubts, began to relent. With a soft sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck, pausing for a moment longer. Finally, he made his decision and began to remove parts of his attire, first unbuckling his belts and then discarding his dirty and slightly frayed cloak, leaving only a light garment that did not fully cover his body. Once he had rid himself of all unnecessary elements of his gear, he stood silently, holding his breath for a moment, before finally taking Thranduil’s hand.Thranduil watched him, noticing how his son hesitated as though unsure if he should lie down. His heart softened at the sight. He understood that Legolas, despite his weariness, always placed duty above his own needs. His heart raced slightly, but his hands remained steady, filled with understanding.
“Legolas, I want you to rest and feel safe,” Thranduil said, his tone gentle this time, as though assuring his son that there were no barriers.Legolas, still uncertain, moved closer and sat on the bed beside his father. He sat quietly, his back turned. He could feel the warmth radiating from Thranduil’s body—so familiar, yet in this moment, it carried a different meaning. His heart raced, his body, worn from battle, slowly beginning to relax. Meanwhile, the hand that had invited him now lightly wrapped around his waist.A moment later, as Legolas shivered slightly, feeling unknown emotions filling the space between them, Thranduil noticed him breaking through the barrier and slowly climbing up to rest his head on the pillow beside his father.“Are you alright?” Thranduil asked, his voice soft and full of concern.Legolas closed his eyes, feeling his heart gradually settle. There was something about this moment that brought out all the emotions he had been suppressing. After years of living in the shadows, separated by duties, now in this closeness, he felt that everything he had ever wanted was within reach. So he propped himself slightly on his elbow and leaned toward his father. His hand reached for the elder elf’s face, gently caressing his cheek, and after a moment of hesitation, he pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
His body trembled slightly, not from cold but from something far deeper.“Yes, Ada…” he replied softly, pulling back and looking at his father’s face. His faint smile soothed the younger elf’s nerves. After a moment, he let his hand drop slightly, resting it on his father’s chest.Thranduil looked at him with tenderness, his hand moving to Legolas’s face, brushing against his cheek before lowering to his neck, gently but encouragingly massaging the spot. The gesture had its desired effect, and soon the younger elf lay down, this time resting his head against his father’s chest.“I’ve wanted to hold you for so long, Legolas,” Thranduil whispered, his voice filled with warmth, as though he never wanted to be apart from his son again.Legolas closed his eyes, nestling closer. It was a strange feeling—a pure peace he had never known. Instead of pulling away, he drew closer, feeling his father’s hand stroke his hair, slowly undoing the tangled strands and removing the tightly braided plaits.
“Thank you, Ada…” Legolas whispered, his voice steadier now. In this quiet moment, their bond felt stronger than ever before.Thranduil leaned down slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his son’s head, as if to reassure him that he would always be there. He felt his son fully surrender to the gestures of affection, their bodies entwined in silence that mattered more than words.The unspoken emotions between them hung heavy, a reminder of everything they had missed and all that was left to say. But for now, there was no need for more words. They simply rested, their hearts beating in unison—father and son, finally learning to find solace in each other’s presence.In that moment, as the night settled around them, they found something far more important than the wars they had fought or the roles they had played. They found each other. And that was enough.