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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.”
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