Thranduil looked at his sons, one seated on each of his knees. Ilmendin sat, spinning a little stuffed bird between his fingers - a gift from Erestor, while Legolas plucked at the string upon his toy bow that Thaladir had made for him.

One son was bright like the sun, the other dark like the night. Legolas was the spitting image of his father, while Ilmendin favored his mother’s looks. Thranduil would admit, he had prayed to the Valar for a girl after the birth of his first son, but whenever he looked upon them as he did now, he knew without a moment’s hesitation that they were two of his greatest treasures and now his hopes seemed such impossible thoughts. The younger chose the moment to look up at him and grin, and he smiled back, tweaking the little one’s nose. There was a giggle, and Ilmendin looked up, but not in time to dodge the fingers that tickled his side. Sighing contentedly, he pulled them both a little closer.

“One day,” said Thranduil, as his sons looked up to him in unison, “you will be king,” he said to Ilmendin.

Ilmendin shrugged his shoulders. “Of what?” he asked.

“Of the lands we are going to,” Thranduil answered. “Your grandfather has decided we are moving- to where, I know not. But he will be King until the time comes that we cross back over the sea. If you decide to stay, you will become King. It is many years away, but it is something you should know.”

“Alright,” he said, and started to twirl his bird again.

“Ilmendin, this is very important,” his father said to him. “You will be a prince.”

“That’s fine with me,” Ilmendin said. Thranduil sighed.

“Do I get to be a prince?” asked Legolas, twanging the bow at an imaginary target. One eye was shut and the other squinting at the pretend attacker, little tongue just peeking out of the corner of his mouth. He twanged the bow again.

“Of course you get to be a prince,” Thranduil answered.

Some new imaginary creature appeared to his far right, and he swiveled his bow and pulled back the string. “Do I get to be a king?” asked Legolas.

Thranduil smiled. “Well… you will help your brother, who will be king.

Legolas furrowed his brow and paused his game. “Why don’t I get to be king?” he asked.

Ilmendin set his bird on his lap and petted it as he looked up at his little brother. “He can be king if he wants to,” said Ilmendin.

“No, no, no,” said Thranduil. “Ilmendin, one day, you will be king and Legolas will help you.”

Legolas pouted. “How will I help him?” he asked, fidgeting with the bow.

“Well… you will help to… protect… whatever kingdom we have.”

“That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun,” Legolas said. “I want to be king.”

Ilmendin twirled his bird. “I don’t care if he’s king, Ada.”

“I care if he’s king!” Thranduil announced, making both of his sons jump upon his knee. He removed the bow and the bird and set them onto the ground, and then patted their heads to calm them down, saying, “Ilmendin is older, he has to be king.”

Legolas thought about this for a while, squishing his head down further and further to resist the patting on the top of it. “But… Aunt Lhunerin is older than grandfather.”

“Yes,” said Thranduil carefully.

“Then why isn’t she king?”

Thranduil sighed and stilled his hands. “Because she would be a queen.”

“Well, then why isn’t she queen?”

“She’s not queen because she’s not coming with us.” Two sets of sad eyes looked up at him. “She’ll visit,” he said quickly before any tears could fall.

Legolas sighed. “What else do I get to do?”

“What else do you want to do?”

“Well, I want to be king,” he said, crossing his arms indignantly. “That is what else I want to do.”

Thranduil took a deep breath. “You will BE a prince.”

“But I WANT to be king.”

“You will be a prince, and you’ll like it.”

Ilmendin reached over and took his younger brother’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “He can be king if he wants to- I really don’t want to be king.” Legolas smiled back at his brother.

“Ilmendin.” Thranduil counted to ten, and then began again. “Ilmendin, you are the elder brother, you will be king. Legolas, it will be your duty to help Ilmendin in any way that he needs.”

“Am I being punished?” asked Legolas abruptly, pulling away his hand and glaring up at his father.

“No, Legolas, you’re not being punished, we’re-“ Thranduil took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. Why was it that his sons were always more difficult when their mother was not around? “It’s a great honor to help the king.”

“It would be a greater honor to be the king.”

“He can be the king,” Ilmendin said again with a look of exasperation.

“Look, Ilmendin, you will be king. Legolas, you will help him. That is my final answer.”

Legolas hopped off of his father’s knee and hopped back quicker than Thranduil could scoop him back up. “Fine, fine he can be king, but you know what? You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to start my own kingdom- yes! Yes, I am. I’m going to go start my own kingdom, and… and I’m going to get a dwarf to help me.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” said Thranduil, narrowing his eyes.

“Just watch me,” Legolas said through clenched teeth, and he turned around and ran away.