Thranduil walked into the dimly lit room, the flickering candles and the wispy rays of Anor that filtered through the high skylight giving it a melancholy air that was not appropriate for this joyous occasion. He looked at Saervain’s exhausted face. Her eyes were downcast, staring at the bundle in her arms, tendrils of her long brown hair stuck to her face and neck. When she glanced up at her husband, her smile was wan, but her bliss shone from her eyes. Seeing the want on the king’s face, she lifted the bundle slightly and he gladly took it and held it close against him.
When he moved the soft blue blanket away from its face, Thranduil marveled at the form he held. Wispy tendrils of palest gold hair crowned the fair head. As his heart swelled with the realization that he was holding his offspring in his arms, he tenderly stroked the soft cheeks. His movements awoke the baby and the king was instantly mesmerized by crystalline blue eyes. Suddenly a tiny fist circled his finger and he was lost. Love stronger than any he had known suffused his being. He was a father!
As he looked at the perfect little fingers clutching his, he was stunned by how tiny the hands were with their small fingernails. He carefully counted each digit and then uncovered the tiny body, wanting to see the little toes, too. This caused a whimper of displeasure from the baby and it flailed its arms, but Thranduil soon calmed it with soothing sounds, smiling with delight as he ran calloused hands over the little fleshy knees.
When Thranduil could finally look away from his child, he smiled at his wife, the joy that lit his features conveying his emotions. She smiled weakly; though the long labor had worn her out, she would not have wished to miss their first moments together. “He is the most beautiful baby ever, is he not, my king?”
Saervain nodded. Ever stronger emotions coursed through the king and he carefully knelt by his wife’s bed, wanting his family to be whole. “You have gifted me with the most precious treasure in all of Arda.” Tears coursed down his cheeks as he could no longer contain his feelings. He had been required to provide his realm with an heir after his father’s death, so his marriage had been arranged. Although Saervain was a beautiful elleth as well as the perfect wife and queen to be at his side, he had not loved her nor she him. In time, they had grown to respect each other, but they never developed the strength of emotions that bonded pairs shared. And now, he finally felt such adoration toward his wife as he had not known before.
A soft, cool hand stroking his cheek pulled his eyes away from his son once again. “What should we name him?”
He knew without a doubt as a premonition washed over him, his eyes returning to his son’s; the little hand never had let go of his finger. At that moment, their connection was forged, and they would be nigh inseparable as the little prince grew. “Legolas. My iôn will be Legolas Thranduilion, and he will be gravely important to the fate of Middle-earth.”
Saervain leant back into the pillows and closed her eyes, finally content to rest and let her husband and their son have time together. “He is your son, after all, my king.” She drifted off to her reverie, pleased that she had at last seen love and complete happiness in Thranduil’s eyes.
Thranduil stood and placed a light kiss to his wife’s brow, and then he left her to rest. He was beaming with pride and had to show off his son.