"So. You are leaving."

Legolas gave no reply to his father's statement. No reply was necessary. His departure was evident in the many packs strewn on the ground beside his horse, the traveling garb he wore, and in the bow strapped to his back. He never used the Galadhrim bow unless he traveled abroad.

"May I ask why you are leaving?" His father's voice held a plaintive note. Yes, his son had always been a free spirit, never content to stay in one place for long. Some of his most cherished memories consisted of him tracking Legolas down from wherever he had gone. Such a bright, welcoming spirit. Was truly hard to understand that his father did not wish for him to leave all the time?

Legolas's hands, loading one of the packs onto his horse, paused. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "You would have me stay . . . out of love for you, Father."

Thranduil nodded slightly. "I would, my son. I enjoy your company. With your mother gone, the halls of our home sing a melancholy song."

Legolas nodded, his eyes bleak with grief for his mother, and for his father as well. "I know, my father. But...I cannot stay away from my heart any longer."

"Your heart?" Thranduil was surprised. Never had Legolas shown interest in Mirkwood's maidens, nor had he ever spoken of a love or infatuation. "You have lost your heart?"

"And gained one in return, during the course of the Quest." Legolas flushed slightly. "I have not told you...for fear of your displeasure."

Thranduil was truly puzzled. "My son, the thought of you loving and loved in return brings me great joy. I only desire your happiness. Tell me who you found worthy of your love?"

He moved forward, assisting his son in loading the last of his supplies. Legolas sprang nimbly onto his horse's back. He looked back at his father.

"His name is Gimli . . . son of Gloin."

With those words, the prince of Mirkwood left.