It eases his thoughts to know simply that his father will be better. Not that he will regain those memories, only that.. knowing Thranduil is. Alright. For lack of a better term. Good and hale.
Legolas remembers being a child when he was told about Doriath, about Menegroth. Stone pillars tall as trees, carved to imitate them, the beeches of Oromë. Nightingales singing, fountains of silver, and carved figures of beasts on the walls. Bed-time stories, his father would say, to help him sleep. These were the halls in which lived Thingol, King of Doriath.
These are the stories he recounts to Thranduil now, with little additions. He had said 'some'. But he'll tell as much of it as Thranduil will let him, until he has him stop.
..Or until Netherlands makes him get back to work.
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Legolas remembers being a child when he was told about Doriath, about Menegroth. Stone pillars tall as trees, carved to imitate them, the beeches of Oromë. Nightingales singing, fountains of silver, and carved figures of beasts on the walls. Bed-time stories, his father would say, to help him sleep. These were the halls in which lived Thingol, King of Doriath.
These are the stories he recounts to Thranduil now, with little additions. He had said 'some'. But he'll tell as much of it as Thranduil will let him, until he has him stop.
..Or until Netherlands makes him get back to work.