"From the Fade," he confirmed, unable to keep the fondness from his tone. His actions betrayed him if his voice did not, gently sweeping Legolas' hair behind his ear, and tugging the blankets back around them. Only elflings yawned, stretched as he had- it was impossible for those motions not to reawaken the same concern he had felt when Legolas was much younger.

He brushed a hand over his own front in an attempt to smooth out his sleeping shirt, and brushed over a wet spot with his palm, halting to check that what he felt was real.

Thranduil brushed his thumb over the corner of Legolas' mouth, raising a brow- and then yawning himself, the reaction somehow contagious.