Fear is non-existent for the little child, especially when accepted and coddled by the elvenking himself. Doelike eyes of bright silver blinked at the normally stern visage, filled with wonder as he awakened briefly with the vague memory of tender fingertips caressing over his cheeks. Curious, but drawn and he reached out with little hands to tentatively grave for the strong jawline and cheekbones. "Ada?" The father he never had -- he simply felt this strong parental connection.
             Estel had slept more restless than he usually did. Occasionally the elvenking felt a little kick here and there. It did not hurt at all but caused him to worry. The boy's dream was distressing. "I am here." Thranduil retorted. His deep voice had always come in handy with children. They deemed the smooth tone to be comforting. Fatherly. As long as he did not raise his voice and bellowed, they were comforted. Estel and Legolas at least. Stroking the boys unruly maroon tresses he accepted the touch and ancient lips curled into a smile. The king's skin was silken and did not feel as old as it was. "Would you like a nice breakfast?" he hummed, covering the tiny hand with his own, slender one.
