AN: I do NOT own any of the characters. I wish I did (especially Legolas) but I don't. This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, so any feedback is welcome. :) I hope you enjoy this!

"How much further, Ada?" The little elfling was almost bouncing in the saddle with impatience, his lively blue eyes alight with suppressed excitement. Thranduil surveyed his youngest with an air of bemusement. "Surely I never had that much energy!" he thought. It was true – the little prince was always getting into one scrape or another. Trouble didn't just happen to Legolas; he welcomed it in with open arms. The Elvenking shuddered at the memory of his youngest's latest escapade – how the scamp had managed to get up that chimney, he would never know – before being jerked back to the present by his son's piercing voice. "Ada!" Not for the first time during the journey, Thranduil wished Lithuen had decided to make the trip with them. Summoning his last shreds of patience, he smiled down at his son. "Not very much, tithen pen," he soothed. Legolas began talking, but his father forestalled him by raising one slender finger. "Look," he commanded. Still pouting a little, Legolas obediently turned to face ahead.

To the little princeling's travel-weary eyes, the landscape before him looked much the same as they had passed before: crumbling rock, clumps of heather and swatches of moss and grass. He opened his mouth to inform his father of this when the ground suddenly plunged out of view just in front of his pony's hooves. Barely aware of what he was doing, Legolas scrambled out of the saddle to gaze with wide eyes at the incredible view before him. The tiny elfling could barely take everything in: the bubbling river, the fresh, homely scent of the pines trees, the flaming red and gold of the maples as they surrendered their leaves to hungry Winter. Thranduil sat his horse silently, savouring the amazement of his tiny offspring with some amusement. "Come along, ion nin. We still have a way to go yet." Legolas obediently turned away from the edge.

"Coming, Ada" he began when the thunderous cacophony of a hillside's worth of tumbling rock and earth drowned him out. "Legolas!" Thranduil cried, leaping from his horse and racing to save his little one. An involuntary cry of triumph burst from his lips as his outstretched fingers grasped the folds of Legolas' cloak. But he had forgotten the effect Legolas had on his clothes. Worn out from the constant wear and tear imposed on it by the little prince, the soft silk tore, leaving Thranduil with a handful of ragged cloth, and Legolas Manwë knows where.


Ada = Daddy

Tithen pen = Little one

Ion nin = my son

Thanks for taking your time to read this little bit of fluff. Reviews are very much appreciated and don't worry - I won't break if you tell me you didn't like this. Just tell me why and I'll try to do better! I'll hopefully be putting another (longer) chapter up in the next couple of weeks.

- Gabrielle Greenleaf