by Jay of Lasgalen  

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Desperate now, Thranduil searched further downstream.  How could such a small elfling wander so far, in such a short time?  He had turned his back for only a second, but his son had vanished.

His mind was filled with terrifying images and dread.  There were so many dangers to befall a child; spiders, wolves – and the swift, cold river.

Then, the call he longed for and dreaded.  “My Lord!  Over here!”

Flaming torchlight revealed a muddy, tear-streaked elfling; peacefully asleep among the protective roots of a mighty oak.  Thranduil bent; scooped him up with a kiss.  “Legolas.  Come home now.”