“ Do you know where the wicked go after death? ” ( from a tinie leggy )
Legends are slippery little things. @mosttireless
Puffs of dark grey dotted an otherwise beautiful blue sky; whether or not they chose to dump their gift down upon the thirsting world was, however, irrelevant to Thranduil’s own enjoyment of the day, and would therefore serve as no precursor of sending the father and son pair away from the task of gardening and indoors for a drier climate inasmuch as young Legolas remained jolly in his pursuits of outdoor play in and around the lush areas Thranduil attended to. Still, loving and watchful eyes remained on his elfling lest the boy be drawn too far away to be attended to while busy hands cared for chlorophyllic friends in need of pruning and weeding. Having settled beside his father for a time, every now and again a particularly lovely twig or discarded bloom would be woven into blond locks until the arrangement resembled a crown of careful craftsmanship. Yet it seemed to Thranduil that, upon close inspection of his work, one final touch was missing, deemed shortly thereafter to be a centerpiece lacking.
Each piece of trimmings was given thoughtful consideration, and from them a delicate blue flower selected and plucked from the pile – but his motions ceased at soft query, brow furrowing and gaze shifting to the elfling at his hip.
“You ask after a heavy subject, little leaf.” His own answer mirrored the softness of the petals between his fingers, yet held nothing more than a mild concern. “Why does such a thing trouble you….?”
His pause gave rise to silence of a minute or two before what words would be best offered to a young mind like Legolas’. “From what I understand, Mandos looks after them in his halls until they have apologized for their misdeeds. Then they are allowed to return to their loved ones.”
