When you are not bound to the whims of your art, [ thranduil says, the curve of a smile lightening his words. Then you may correct the record. ] I would delight to hear of your founds truths, over wine, since you do not favor tea.

[ he freezes the glamour, dissolves it, though he lets legolas linger, cheerful and young and safe in the halls of the elvenking, occupied wholly by thoughts of when he would be allowed to learn to shoot, and ada look here. but that too falls into dust and they are once more before solas' mural. ]

He is my son, [ thranduil says, and that ought to be everything that needs to be said, to imply all the love that is there, still. ] Though he is not so small anymore.

[ and not here, but safe. that is a balm to everything else. thranduil releases solas' hand, and turns to face him rather than stay by his side. ]

I fear I have stolen too much of your time, my friend.