The Greenwood, 2541 of the Third Age

The Valar had been kind enough to grant you your baby boy, Legolas, not long after your marriage to Thranduil, and as he grew from infant to toddler, toddler to child, he never ceased to amaze you with how fast he could acquire new combat skills, despite only being pretend for now.

It was clear to you from the start that Legolas craved his father's approval, fought for his attention. You felt it a little unfair although you knew it was normal for paternal instincts to blossom late in elves.

After a particularly frustrating swordsmanship lesson, Legolas had been hurt and had run away to his chambers, so you gave gentle chase, Thranduil stayed put, surveying his little warrior.

You trailed your little boy to his room, gently pushing the door open to see a little boy shaped lump under the soft cotton sheets, shivering with muffled sobs.