Lord of the Rings 1. Comparisons

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. 

**Author's Notes:** Hi all! **This story follows both "The Light of Sons" and "Ardent Shine the Stars".** _To be able to fully appreciate any references and to know the characters well, you should read both of those fics first. However, if you feel that you must read this one right now, you might be able to hack your way through if you read Chapters 2 & 4 of "Light" and Chapter 7 of "Ardent". _

**Rated for possible angst. **

For those interested, this directly follows the end of "Ardent", meaning that Legolas is still about 6 years-old (human equiv.). His older brother is a good 200 years his senior, making him a fairly young adult, compared to other adult Elves. 

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**Comments and questions are more than welcome! **

Responses to reviews will appear with the next post. 

The next update will probably be in a week or so. 

Enjoy!

--Aranel

aranels@hotmail.com

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**Chapter 1~*~Comparisons**

Moonlight filtered through the leaves of oaks and beeches, creating shadow-broken patterns on the forest floor below. The trees of King Thranduil's gardens were not as thick as those in the further areas of the forest, and it was a good time for a leisurely walk in the cool of the evening. The king's older son was strolling home just now, his steps a little shorter than usual, his mind deep in thought. 

It was good to walk among these trees when one's mind was clouded with wisps of thoughts that blew softly away before they could be seriously dwelled upon. The trees' voices were mumbling calmness, rather like a soothing and repeated melody played slowly on the strings of a harp. Aldandil smiled, staring at the shards of a pale moon through branches bursting with the green leaves of early summer. Yes, these trees had developed their comforting abilities expertly. Perhaps it was from long years of stilling his father's troubled heart, and his grandfather's before him. 

The shift of a few small fingers in the young Elf's light grasp steered his thoughts in a more focused direction. He glanced down at his younger brother, returning the Elfling's smile. This did not seem to be an evening for tosses in the air or tickling on the ground, but for walking silently…for pondering something that this very child had said only a moment ago. 

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They had stumbled upon a butterfly early this morning…not a butterfly, exactly, but its chrysalis.

"Look," Aldandil had sat cross-legged on the ground, allowing his younger brother to settle onto his lap. He pointed to the splitting shell, "It will be coming out soon. See? You can already see its' wings through the chrysalis."

"How long has it been in there?" Legolas eyed the bright wings through the shiny coat. 

Aldandil took a long look at the case, trying to determine what species of butterfly this might be, "Several years, I think. Most break out after only a few weeks, or one winter, but this kind is special."

Legolas had widened his eyes slightly, a little surprised, "Why?" 

"It just takes longer," Aldandil scrutinized the gwilwileth now. Its head had just dropped from the sheath, and it appeared to be struggling inside.

"Is something wrong with it?" Legolas leaned closer to the twitching cocoon, his expression worried. 

"Nothing is wrong with it," Aldandil responded evenly, though it was somewhat difficult to watch the small insect wriggle and squirm. 

"But it can't get out! Shouldn't we help it?" Legolas refrained from touching the shifting chrysalis, but his concern was quite obvious. 

Aldandil was quiet, looking at his younger brother's compassionate look. "We can't," he finally said, meeting the child's confused expression, "A gwilwileth must struggle like this so that everything turns out right. If we helped it, it would never learn to be strong enough to pump out its wings. If it could not do that, then it would never be able to fly."

"Pump out its wings?" Legolas stared into his older brother's face. 

"Just watch. See, it is coming out now." The insect slipped out, clinging to its split chrysalis. It took a few carefully placed steps, hanging itself wearily. 

"There _is something wrong with it," Legolas sounded disappointed, and nearly worried, "Its wings are too small. Look, they're all crumpled! It can't fly like that."_

"Wait."

And so they waited. After half an hour of nothing, his younger brother grew restless, ready to give up. Aldandil held him in his spot, "Be patient."

"How long will it take?"

"Maybe a few hours," Aldandil grinned at the Elfling's shocked response, "Maybe even overnight. It needs to rest. Coming out is hard work."

"This is a very slow gwilwileth," the child complained, "Are you sure it's all right?"

"It is fine," Aldandil responded, "As soon as it is ready, it will fly away like any other gwilwileth."

"Will it fly as high as the others?" Legolas seemed intent on getting an answer to this particular question. 

"Yes," Aldandil nodded, watching as the insect fanned its wings slightly, "Just as high." 

They sat there all morning, and when they returned after lunch, the insect was still there. 

"Look carefully," Aldandil pointed, "Its wings are not so little anymore. It is pumping blood into them, to make them strong."

His brother was quiet then, silently watching the slow beatings of the brightly colored wings. Aldandil began a long tale in anticipation of a lengthy wait, launching into the exploits of an adventurous warrior. When the watered-down battles shifted into the hero's return to peaceful gardens and a welcoming home, Legolas had already slipped into a quiet sleep. 

Aldandil had returned his focus to the resting butterfly, its wide wings now spread over its back, hardening and drying for flight. So much work for the same privileges of the rest of its kind...nothing less, nothing more. How could one gwilwileth slip out of a cocoon and dart away only hours later, when those like this one had to stretch the wait?

The sky had grown dark, and dinner was long past. The light of stars began to poke through night's dark blanket over the sky. Aldandil shook his brother's shoulder softly, whispering, "Look. It is ready now."

"It's so late," his brother returned, glancing at the sky. 

"But it is ready, nonetheless," Aldandil smiled, somewhat proud of the small insect. His faith in it had proved sure, and the bright butterfly sprang up in flight, testing its now ready wings. It dipped slightly, learning quickly, and lighted on a new branch for night's sleep. 

Legolas watched the short flight carefully, allowing his brother to lift him in order to obtain one last look at the insect that he had watched for the better part of the day. Aldandil marked the child's final interested look, setting him on the ground. He took the Elfling's hand, ready to lead him home. There would be a fast meal, and then Naneth would splash the child in and out of the bath, hurry him into clean nightclothes, and fold him between the light sheets of his bed. 

It was then that Legolas chose to speak, to send his older brother's mind into a flurry of comparisons and questions. The Elfling not even looked at him with one of his usual complicated expressions, but had mentioned the thing quietly, as though he were only reflecting. 

"I'm like that gwilwileth."


	2. Cannot

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Rated for Angst.******

**Author's Notes: **There really is not much for me to say…I hope that you are all enjoying yourselves, I was extremely pleased to get so many reviews on my first chapter. Here are the: 

**_Responses to Reviewers!_**

***Karri:** I'm glad you liked the butterfly…keep reading!

***Lindsay:** Wordless, hmm? *grins happily* Although I do like long reviews…

***fan81981:** I hope when you say "problem", you do not mean a problem as in "that should not be there" but as in "it's really too bad that that's there". *hopeful grin* I know it's a little depressing, but this is essentially Legolas's fic…no extra plot lines with his mother this time. I agree, it's not fair that he has so many ups and downs, but as you pointed out, he does turn out just fine eventually. Don't despair; I'll be sure that he has plenty of good times! 

***Saera:** *gets caught up in bouncy dance* Yippee!

***LOTRFaith:** Yes, I would love to grab a little Legolas up in a hug! I know this starts off a little sad, but I hope it's balanced. : )  I'm glad you're excited about the sequel!

***Nikki:** I know…it was meant to be a little sad, but hopeful at the same time. I'm glad you liked it. 

***Suilie:** I'm glad that you found everything! Thank you for your nice comments! *hands you a tissue* Sorry that it made you tear up just a tad! (*is secretly happy that she has the ability to make people cry*)

Absolute travesty?! I would certainly hope not!

***Dragon-of-the-north:** There are always long responses for long reviews! 

The bottom line does have quite an impact, doesn't it? I was going to leave it off, but figured that some readers might need an extra prod to grasp all the symbolism. I would have loved to see you explain all my symbolism, but your review was wonderful as it is! Thank you very much!

Yes, Thranduil has lots of things for the trees to comfort…fear of Shadow, Dagorlad's horror and losses, and yes, I think, his little son…

I will not comment much on your other comments, for they are all "right on" as we say. *grin* I loved your assessment. 

Do not worry about Legolas falling asleep during the tale of the warrior! It was a warm summer day, and watching a single gwilwilith for hours could make a little Elfling slightly sleepy!

I am sorry to say that Thranduil, Thilómë, and Nimaron do not appear just yet, but they will be around soon enough!  As for Arasil, read on…

I am sorry that I didn't comment more, but there is not much to say for a perfect assessment! Also: tendovaginitis?! *startled cry* I hope that you are doing better very, very soon! 

***SperryDee and Charlie:** "Aw" covers everything, doesn't it? And Charlie likes popcorn, does she? My kitten (Rosa Loca) likes potato chips. Mmm, mmm (I like them too). 

***Zoya:** A "correct" description? Let's hope I can stick to it! I'm glad you liked it. 

Glad to hear you found your other Aranel…there are enough of us, aren't there. *blantantly refuses to change own name*

***purplesmackers:** An avid reader since the beginning, hmm? Thank you so much for taking the time to review! You will be glad to hear that this fic is Legolas's fic…not one that he has to share with his mom, although she's still around. That means we can all trail him on his little journey…and you betcha, there will be tons of Aldandil and his little bro. 

***waseom:** Wow---you reviewed again! You are getting better at this! *pats waseom on the back*

I'm beginning to slow down…there are two weeks of university left, and they are extremely busy weeks. 

Glad you liked my comparison; it's important to the whole story. Little Legolas is cute, isn't he? And still huggable too. I just can't imagine grabbing Big Legolas and cuddling him…he's just too big and strong. 

Better than "Light" and "Ardent", huh? Let's hope! There's nothing wrong with improving!

***Ana:** Hey there! I'm very glad that you liked the chapter. I think Ada and Nana will come around…Thilómë has always been extremely accepting (I think she'll cry when he's all grown up!), but Thranduil has a lot of concerns. *sad smile* Glad you like Aldandil. (Oooh… "perfect". *is very excited*)

***lurker:** Glad you liked it! 

***Esgalromen:** Happy that you agree! I hope that this story is great too! 

***Robin:** Glad to hear that you love my stories! That is always a great thing to find out. *big grin* 

***StrangeBlaze:** I know that you didn't review, but a little alert popped up to let me know I was on your list. Thank you very much for the comments on your profile page! *hugs!*

***Anyone who recently reviewed "Ardent":** Responses to you will be added to the reviewer response "chapter" at the end of "Ardent". It might take me a little while…I have been pretty busy lately. *guilty smile of apology*

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**Anyone else: I hope that you are enjoying yourselves. Let me know what you think when you get an extra minute!**

The next update could be a ways off, since I am doing this as a WIP. I am extremely busy with end-of-the-year university activities, but this fic will not get abandoned. Never fear, little Legolas will eventually grow into the nearly unhuggable Elf warrior that we all love! (Do we still want him to? *little Legolas smiles _extremely sweetly*) _

**Sindarin****:**

_tithen cunn = little prince_

_laes_ = baby

_nana__ aras = "mama deer" _

~My Sindarin is awful…feel free to correct me~

**Comments and questions are always welcome!**

**--Aranel**

**aranels@hotmail.com**

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**Chapter 2~*~Cannot **

Aldandil fiddled with his pen, lacing curlicues around the edges of his paper. When the letter was opened later, its reader would assume that the writer had been detailed and caring, when truly his mind was elsewhere. Penning the final copies of delegation letters was not what he considered to be a morning well spent, but Adar had insisted that this practice would teach him good ways with words. It seemed that Elves were continually trying to outdo each other with the complexities of language, written or spoken. Speaking and writing were like tying tight knot work: both were intricate and impossibly difficult to undo. 

At least it was not too windy out today. The open walled summerhouse was a welcome alternative to one of the torch-lit studies inside. A few goldcrests were singing in the trees nearby, and the sunlight came in warmly, broken around shadowed patterns of leaves and tree trunks. Aldandil glanced up, smiling. There was his younger brother and a small friend, Arasil, was it? The two were standing at the base of a large and weathered oak tree, apparently debating over something. The young Elf set his pen down, cupping his chin in a hand to watch. 

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Arasil scurried up the tree, then nestled himself in the crook between the old oak's large branches, idly reaching up to finger a few smooth, green leaves over his head. He had been playing with little Prince Legolas a moment ago, but this particular tree had seemed to call to him when he saw it. Its low, sturdy branches almost said, _I will be an easy climb, just  perfect for an Elfling like yourself. A slight wind ruffled and rustled the summer leaves, and the tree nearly giggled, _You___ would like to feel the breeze like this, wouldn't you? Lastly, there had been this very notch. __Just right for seeing the archers practice, the tree seemed to go on, _And___ the stables…and a finch's nest…and who knows what else? Arasil had darted to the branches, deciding that this was a most tempting tree. _

Now the dark-haired little Silvan glanced down, instead of up. Legolas lay sprawled in the grass at the base of the tree, probably falling asleep. Arasil sighed heavily, crawling out on a strong bough. _Be nice_, Ada had said firmly, _Prince Legolas is not as strong as you yet, but you must still be friendly. _"Legolas," Arasil called, staring down, "Come up."

Legolas turned, willing himself to smile slightly, "No…I'll wait here." He was not supposed to climb trees, not yet. Thinking about it, he was not quite sure if he even _could…Aldandil had pushed him into one a few months ago, but that didn't count, not exactly. Legolas glanced up into the branches, _Maybe___…_

"Why?" Arasil asked, his brows wrinkling heavily. Only Legolas would choose not to climb a tree. He was an excellent person to be with when you were feeling tired, but when you actually wanted to play, there was very little that he agreed to do. Ada might not get upset if he tested the _tithen cunn_ just a little, "Are you scared?"

"No!" Legolas responded fiercely, searching for an excuse. He wasn't frightened, just…unsure. "It's too high for me!" To prove his point, he jumped for a branch, not even grazing it with his outstretched fingers. 

"All right, I'll help you," Arasil dropped from his spot. The excuse was good enough, for Legolas was smaller than him, too small to reach the branch, apparently. Ada would be very proud to see his son being helpful. 

Legolas folded his arms over his chest, "I don't want help." 

What was his problem? Did Legolas want to climb the tree or not? Arasil drew in a long breath, keeping his mouth shut. There was a certain amount of fear in knowing that if he opened it, one of his particularly irritated thoughts about Legolas would take verbal form. When he finally did say something, it did not come out quite as nicely as his Adar would have liked, "All right, Laes, let's go play spiders." 

Laes? Legolas blinked. Had Arasil said 'Las' or 'Laes'? 

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Aldandil straightened rigidly, recognizing the look on his younger brother's face. A moment ago Legolas had looked rather passive, but now the Elfling was walking rather determinedly towards the base of the tree (stomping, nearly). Soon enough Arasil was crouched on the ground, and Legolas was standing on his back, straining for a branch.  The older Elf continued to watch from the summerhouse, now breaking into a helpless, but pleased, grin as his younger brother struggled to swing a leg over the bough. Somebody was airing out his wings…

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"You've never climbed before, have you?" Arasil grinned at Legolas happily. There was a certain amount of pleasure in being partially responsible for the accomplishment, and climbing a tree was much more fun with two. 

"No," Legolas drew the word out, deciding that getting pushed into a tree by his older brother didn't exactly count. It felt…_right_ to be up in a tree though, and he leaned easily in the crook of the branches. 

 Arasil grasped a higher branch, pulling himself onto it. Soon enough he had climbed high enough to survey his surroundings. "Legolas!" Arasil glanced down again, "I can see your ada's stables! My ada is training the fire horse!" 

"Nauroch?" Legolas stood up, grasping a branch above his head. That was Aldandil's new horse.

"Yes," Arasil paused, watching for a moment. He continued, "I can see the warriors training too! The older ones are shooting targets, Legolas!" Arasil turned his head, looking in another direction, "And fawns!" 

"They're shooting fawns?" Legolas stared up, horrified. Ada had explained hunting once, saying that deer were gifted for food, but that he would never shoot a little deer, or its mother or father. 

"No," Arasil gripped his branch firmly, unable to hold back a laugh, "There is a _nana aras in the wood, with two fawns. See? Over there are the archers." _

"Ah," Legolas breathed, pulling himself up to watch as a group of green-garbed troop novices let forth their arrows in unison. There was a brilliant _smack _as the arrows embedded themselves in the targets. 

Arasil turned from the archers to Legolas, an excited grin on his face, "One more year. Next year is _Sein Maethor Laer." _

"_Sein Maethor Laer?" Legolas repeated the words, their whole meaning not registering, "One more year for what?" _

"Until we start!" Arasil responded, gleeful but surprised, "You remember_ Sein Maethor Laer, don't you? My nana has already started my tunic, and my ada is making special arrows for my bow." How could anyone forget something so important? There would be games, demonstrations, all kinds of things. The warriors finished with their formal training would be presented and, perhaps best of all, a fresh group of children would begin the long process. Arasil could hardly keep from hugging himself, filled with pride and anticipation. He would be a _sein meathor_ next summer. _

_Sein Maethor Laer…New Warrior Summer. Legolas remembered now. He nodded slightly, slipping back into the comforting crook of the tree's branches. Arasil glanced down, confused. Everyone was so excited for it…preparations were already underway at his house. Why should Legolas be so _unexcited_? Surely the __Sein Maethor Laer of a prince would be something excellent…Legolas probably had scores of weapons waiting to be presented to him, not to mention special teachers and training grounds. _

Legolas fingered the rough bark of the tree, feeling the craggy ridges and dips. As far as he knew, no one was getting ready for _Sein Maethor Laer_. Nana had not shown him any special fabric, and Ada was not crafting arrows for anyone…why should he, when Legolas did not even have a bow? Maybe _Sein Maethor Laer_ was like so many other things…things Arasil could do, but that he could not. Legolas pushed his shoulders against the wide branches, wanting to wrap himself in the comfort of the tree. _Could not, could not, could not_… 

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"Legolas," Aldandil stood under the oak tree, trying to look stern, "What are you doing up in that tree?"

Startled, Legolas leaned out to look down at the speaker. He grinned weakly, realizing that it was his brother. Maybe Aldie would take him to Nana. Then Nana would wrap him like the branches of the most perfect tree, holding him until he forgot all about _Sein Maethor Laer and __could nots. "Hello." _

"You know you cannot climb trees," Aldandil folded his arms over his chest, trying to remain firm looking. In truth, he was having a difficult time not springing forward and grabbing the smaller Elf in congratulation. He willed himself to wait for the answer. 

Legolas stared down at his brother. _Cannot._ Hadn't Aldie been the one to tell him that he _could_ climb a tree? He pressed his fingertips into the tree's wrinkled bark again, trying to make sense of things. 

Aldandil could not bear waiting any longer. His stern look melted away into a large smile, and he pulled the Elfling from the low branches, hugging him in a rather reckless embrace. Legolas pressed his head into his older brother's shoulder, surprising the silver-haired Elf. Aldandil lifted the little chin, still grinning widely, "But you did. You did." He sobered, realizing that his younger brother was not thrilled, but quite upset. Aldandil cocked his head, "You climbed the tree. You did what you could not do." 

_I did_. A growing smile of realization spread over Legolas's small face as everything fell into place. _I can_. 


	3. Warriors and Honey

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Author's Notes:** Hello, again! I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to update---I have been very, very busy lately. In exchange for the delay, I tagged an extra bit onto the chapter to make it a little longer. 

I was again thrilled to receive so many reviews---please believe me when I say that I appreciate every one of them, and all of them make me feel very special. 

**~*~Responses to Reviewers~*~**

***purplesmackers:** I'm glad you like Legolas's innocence and Aldandil's care for him. They are quite the pair of brothers. : )

***Legolas4me:** I'm glad you like little Legolas. Thank you for the comment on the butterfly. I do not watch soaps, but am happy that you were able to relate the chapter to something!

***StrangeBlaze:** Well, hello! It was excellent to hear from you. Thank you for your nice comments about my writing. *beams* 

I am glad that you like Thilómë and Aldandil---Thilómë finally makes her first appearance here. Let's hope that she stays a good Legolas mom. : )

I know, it is too bad that Tolkien did not write more about little Elves. It would have been interesting to read! Glad that you like seeing Legolas's POV once in awhile, and the "Laes"/"Las" bit. I just couldn't pass that up. 

Do not worry about reviews being too long---there is no such thing, in my opinion. : )

AND: I will concede that Big Legolas is not unhuggable…he is simply much harder to catch! 

***Dragon-of-the-North:** That was a _short_ review?! I am very much looking forward to finding out what a very long one is like!

Glad you enjoyed the language bit…I know that my Elves do not always talk musically and poetically, but the fic would take much longer if I tried to perfect that! And yes, Aldandil is stuck writing letters! I would assume that a possible "king-in-training" would have to learn more than how to fire a bow and serve wine to visitors. : ) He is not enjoying the less stimulating parts of life right now… *irritated sigh from Aldandil as he tries to decide on the right salutation for yet another letter*

I'm glad that you enjoyed Arasil---I did not want him to be a _mean_ child, but I did not want to create another one of those overly sweet pairings of a hesitant little Legolas with an overly compassionate and patient friend. Those types of children seem to be extremely rare in real life…

Yes, Legolas still needs some help…but Arasil did not push him into the tree. He mainly got up there himself! We will see what happens with _Sein__ Maethor Laer…_

I am so happy that you enjoyed Aldandil's response---he loves to give Legolas a hard time, and yet cares about him so much. You are right---Thilómë would have responded much differently, and I do not think Legolas would climb another tree for quite some time…

Thank you for another wonderful review, and for your little email as well! Enjoy this chapter!

***Ice Demon:** Hello! I'm glad you enjoyed yourself!

***Silmarien:** I thought you were one of those people that had an awful time reviewing! You are doing a very good job. *pats Sil on the back* I'm glad that you are enjoying the new fic so far. 

Yes…little Legolas does have a good streak of intelligence, although he still perceives things as a child. : ) Do not worry, he will be spreading those wonderful wings soon enough…

***SperryDee and Charlie:** An avocado tree, hmm? That had to be just a little frightening. Don't worry---Legolas will lose his hesitance over climbing trees very soon…and little Elves have fairly good balance. : )

Yes, I do have a kitten---Rosa likes to eat 'tato chips and enjoys sleeping in a little plastic Easter basket (although it is getting a bit small now…). Also, I think that Charlie and I have a common weakness in those peanut butter cups…Reese's "Fastbreaks" are also tasty. 

***Zoya:** I am so happy that you liked the chapter! Legolas is really starting to "branch out". *grin at corny tree tie-in* Sorry that this update took so long!

***waseom:** Hey there! *high-fives waseom because she is doing _very well with her reviewing* You are getting better and better at this!_

Yes! Legolas did climb the tree! Now his nana will not be able to keep him out of them…

I know, I know…Arasil is not the perfect child. If this were mainly from Arasil's POV though, I think we'd all be a little irritated with Legolas! I think they'll manage to get along better as Legolas realizes that he is more than capable of doing messy, mischievous things. 

***Iluvien:** I'm glad that you think I am doing well so far, and that you liked the gwilwileth comparison. Yes, Nim would probably cringe if he knew Legolas was up in a tree---he wants to see the little guy succeed as much as anyone else, but trees are not exactly the safest place for young children. Don't worry, Aldandil will probably mention it very casually…he likes to see Nim panic just a little. 

***Esgalromen:** Happy that you thought the chapter was so sweet!

***PokethePenguin:** Legolas is darn cute, isn't he? He's very glad that he climbed the tree too---although his nana might not agree. 

***Lindsay:** Whew! That was a long review! Thank you!

Aldandil does not enjoy writing letters…hence the curlicues. He cannot wait to get back to less formal tasks, like scouting and perhaps a little sword practice. 

Yes, Arasil can be bratty! I think Legolas needs someone to push him over the edge once in awhile… I can picture the two arguing over something…it would be when they get older, and when Arasil does not feel as though he must consider his ada so much, and Legolas decides he doesn't like being babied. 

Yes, Aldandil has a new horse…and a fiery one at that. Eldor (Arasil's ada) would have the crown prince training the animal himself, but that is a bit difficult when one must write all those pretty letters. : )

Yes, Legolas is going through a period of questioning himself…he'll get over it soon enough. J And you like Aldandil, do you? He seems to have his own flair…

***Lisette:** Hello there! I am glad to hear that you read the two earlier stories and that you liked them. Good to hear that you like my portrayal of little Legolas too. The transformation will be slow, but it is coming!

***Nilmandra:** I am assuming that this is _the_ Nilmandra…I have not read your pieces, but have heard about them. : ) Thank you for checking out my work. I'm glad that you liked the gwilwileth comparison and Legolas's realizations through out the chapters. I agree: it is wonderful to hear someone deciding that they can do something they did not realize was possible---it makes the triumph so much more special. 

***Dragon:** Hello again! It is good to have you back! I'm glad that you are enjoying the new fic so far, and hope that you continue to. 

It is tough for Legolas to consider that Arasil might be involved in _Sein__ Maethor Laer while he gets left behind…not very fun. I am thrilled to hear that you love my story though!_

***Galadriel Lorien:** Helloooo! I know that you didn't review, but I'd like you to know that I enjoyed hearing from you before and hope that you are having fun out in fic-dom somewhere! 

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**Everyone else:** I would love to hear something from you---but if you prefer to remain silent, I can only hope that you are enjoying yourselves. 

**Sindarin: **

_Sein__ Maethor Laer = New Warrior Summer, an invented concept. Tolkien does not mention anything like it, as far as I know. _

_Diola__ lle = Thank you_

_Draug-hên_ = lit. "wolf-child", but I mean to say "wolf pup" 

_Draug_ = wolf

_Celeb__-draug = silver wolf_

_Glî_ = honey 

_Pen-tithen_ = little one

_Tithen glî_ = little honey

Do feel free to correct my Sindarin---I claim no skill with it at all. 

**The next update will probably be in about a week. **

**Comments and questions are always welcome!**

**-Aranel**

**aranels@hotmail.com**

A **BIG THANKS** to those of you who have recently added me to your favorites' lists, whether you review or not. There is just something so special about being put on one of those---it is one of the best presents a fic author can receive!

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**Chapter 3~*~Warriors and Honey**

Thranduil stared out at the young archers practicing in the cleared area below him. It was a group of novices, though each had been diligently taught the art individually by a devoted father, brother, or uncle, perhaps a talented mother or hired teacher. Now they were being molded into a force that could work as one, each long fingered hand reaching for and fitting an arrow in sync with the others. Fingers curled about the nocks and bowstrings, pulled back to the chin. As their skill developed, they would choose their own anchor points, deciding for themselves which draw position worked best. The ruler of Mirkwood watched, waiting, then gave them a pleased smile as all the arrows were released on the instructor's signal. Unanimously, the novices stepped back, all the arrows loosed as one. The somewhat separate twangs of taught bowstrings sounded, followed by the sound of sharp-tipped arrows embedding themselves in a line of stiff targets. Thranduil grinned with their instructor, happy when the youths scurried forth to retrieve their long wooden projectiles. 

The king's gaze shifted to a smaller group, still garbed in the easily spotted white tunics of the earliest students. Thranduil shook his head a little, remembering the look of the group a few years ago. They had been antsy, their bright garments hanging to their knees. Now they were controlled, moving together in the graceful yet darting moves used to avoid the point of a knife or the choking grab of enemy fingers. The tunics that had ruffled like pale lilies in the wind a few years ago already fit a little too well on some, their brightness faded from numerous washings. In another year the garments would be laid aside, traded for the envied greens of older students as these moved up. It would be a moving year…something everyone in the Wood was looking forward to. 

Well, perhaps not _everyone…_

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil stepped away from the window, glancing across the room to where his younger son was playing. Legolas knelt on the floor, circled by an array of whittled animals and people, blocks, books, small boxes, and an assortment of other items gathered from around the sunny sitting room. The ruler of Mirkwood managed a smile, lowering himself to the floor, "What are you doing, Legolas?"

"Playing," the little one responded, giving his father a brief smile. That should have been quite obvious. 

The king nodded, watching as his son moved the play pieces around. He had been wrestling with the decision of whether or not to allow Legolas to start warrior training the next summer. It was still a full year away, but it traditionally required a year of preparation.  "Tell me about your game," Thranduil gestured to the little wooden box that normally housed building blocks, "What is this supposed to be?"

"Arasil's house," Legolas responded nonchalantly, then pointed to a stool clumsily covered with a grey-green chair mat, "And that is our house." The child's small green blanket served for the communal green near the palace, and there were several little propped up book houses placed near a forest of potted herbs that the child's healer had placed in the room for sunlight. 

"Ah," Thranduil settled himself. His little one was now lining up every wooden person on the green, "Are they having a party?"

"No," Legolas responded rather carefully, "They're having _Sein Maethor Laer_." 

"_Sein__ Maethor Laer?" Thranduil grinned widely, "That is exciting. Where are the new warriors?" Perhaps Legolas was ready for the event after all. The Elfling had shown almost no interest in it as of yet, and it thrilled Thranduil to think that maybe the child was anticipating it. The choice depended mainly on the little one's desire, for Legolas's healer had hesitantly agreed that he would probably be able to keep up with the simple physical tasks of early training if he was truly determined to. _

"Here are the big ones," Legolas pointed to one line, then to another, "And here are the little ones."

"Which one are you?" Thranduil raised an expectant eyebrow at his son. 

Legolas surveyed his little group for a moment, then responded slowly, "I'm not there. I'm still at home." The child did not continue then, but turned to the makeshift cave palace, as though debating whether or not to add himself to the _Sein Maethor group. _

Thranduil regarded his son for a moment, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the floor. "Well," he reached under the small stool to retrieve a wooden figure, placing it as carefully as he might an influential chess piece with the group of 'little warriors', "You are there now. Hopefully everyone will forgive you for being late." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil unfolded the wrappings from a sword, then carefully wrapped them about the weapon again when he found that this was not the blade that he was looking for. It was never a good idea to send one's personal weapon to the armory for cleaning, for it was a tendency of the armorers to assume that anything obviously belonging to the royal family was there to be wrapped and stored as an heirloom. _The problem_, Aldandil mused, _is that everything is enfolded in the same color!_ He knew the weight of the blade he was looking for, but that had only narrowed the pile down. If only he had included the scabbard…

"Have you found it yet?" Thilómë walked into the large room, seeing her older son near a large table with several richly wrapped items laid out before him. 

"No," Aldandil spread out the cloth around another blade, shaking his head when it was again the wrong one. He glanced up at his mother, "Don't you usually bathe Legolas at this time of day?" 

"Yes," Thilómë lifted a weapon from the pile, laying it down on the table, "Your Adar is with him. They were both very excited about your brother's _Sein Maethor Laer."_

 "Aren't you?" Aldandil raised an eyebrow at his mother. She had eagerly anticipated his own _Sein Maethor Laer: much time had been spent practicing the steps for the long braid new students wore, carefully embroidering tunics that were soon covered in dirt and grass, and walking with him out to the practice greens to watch each day's activities. _

Thilómë carried a re-wrapped sword to its place in the family corner, "Yes and no. I am happy to see him looking forward to it, but…but he is still very small. I am worried that he might not be able to handle everything."  What would her little one do on a green field with a group of over-excited children? She sucked on her lower lip, already able to picture a frightened and confused look on his small face. It was an expression that always made her want to gather him into her arms, to hold him tightly until he could manage one of his bright little smiles again. Thilómë looked up at her older son. Aldandil waited patiently for her to finish, and she sighed, smiling a little sadly, "And he is my last child. I know it sounds strange, all things considered, but there is a part of me that wants to be able to always hold him, to have him come for a little hug." She managed a small, shaky laugh, "It was that way with you too. You were always difficult to hold though…always squirming like a fish fresh out of the water."

"Yes," Aldandil laughed heartily, and then slowly sobered as he considered his mother's words. Naneth was pulling the folds of intricately embroidered cloth from another weapon, her face covered in an expression that was both happy and sad. Had it pained her to watch him at his own _Sein__ Maethor Laer? He could remember only her beaming smile, the way she gave him a little wave when he stepped into the fidgeting line of 'little warriors'. But…but there had also been a time when she was tucking him into bed, when she had used her little cognomen for him. _

_'I'm a warrior now, Nana. You do not have to call me that,' he had said, a bouncing silver-haired Elfling in a big bed. _

_Nana had smiled in what he then thought was a strangely  sort of sad way, pulling the covers over his still wiggling form, 'I suppose not.'_

She looked up at him now, braving a wavery smile in spite of her glistening eyes. It was the same expression she had worn that night.  Aldandil bit his lip, realizing now that she had been trying not to cry at his growing up. His mother lifted a blade from the cloth, "Well look, here it is." 

"_Diola__ lle, Naneth," Aldandil took the sword, laying it hastily on the table. He wrapped his arms across his mother's back, whispering a little hesitantly, "And I am still your __draug-hên, Naneth, although perhaps I am a big _draug_ now." _

Thilómë managed a light laugh, patting her older son's shoulder as she pulled away, "Yes, I believe that you are a very big _celeb__-draug now." _

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Legolas hopped over to his bed, then onto it, making a dent in the pristinely smoothed coverlet. He felt filled with something bubbly and happy, and it made him want to sing and bounce. Ada had said he would have his _Sein Maethor Laer_ next summer. The Elfling hugged his blanket to himself, thrilled with that little bit of information. 

He had not been able to stop himself from throwing himself into his Ada's arms at the news, recklessly tipping over blocks and books in the process. Ada had been so happy then, so very, _very_ happy. Legolas flopped back onto his pillow, remembering the excited way Ada had told him all about the games and ceremonies, the special things that he would need, the importance of concentrating and listening. One more year…_one more year…_

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

"Read this one, Nana!" Legolas opened the thin book on his lap, a finger pressed onto the forehead of the swordsman represented in the picture he had turned to, "Read about the sneaky warrior!"

"The _stealthy warrior," Thilómë slid onto her little son's bed, taking the book as the child nestled himself against her. She returned to the first page of the book---a book that had been read multiple times over to Aldandil, his gummy little fingerprints still on the preserved paper. There were fond memories tied to the aging storybook: Thranduil attempting to write something that would excite and yet not scare their older son, a good friend sketching in the illustrations, a bouncy Aldandil leaping off her lap to enact his favorite parts, and now a content Legolas snuggling close to see the flowing script and vibrant pictures. _

Legolas listened to his mother's melodic voice dipping and rising as she read about a warrior searching the forest for a dangerous and destructive beast. The hero went through the story looking and looking, occasionally finding a friend or playing a trick on a spider, until he found the "beast", which was actually just a very irritable and hungry bear. 

"You are no juicy morsel, but you shall do," Nana was reading in her best bear voice, her teeth slightly bared and eyes narrowed. 

"Do not strike me, beast, for my gleaming bite is sharp and deep," Legolas said the next line along with her, his young face stern and dignified.

Thilómë laughed lightly, continuing to the end, where the warrior compromised with the bear, finding him a honey tree in exchange for protection. Legolas's eyes lingered on the last page, "Nana, would the bear actually eat him?"

"Bears like honey much better than warriors," Thilómë rubbed a hand through her son's light hair, kissing his forehead, "So you had better watch out, _glî_, for you are very sweet."

"I'm not sweet, Nana!" Legolas jerked away slightly in order to look at his mother. He closed the book, then gave her a proud smile, "I'm going to be a warrior, just like in the book."

"Hmm," Thilómë responded, drawing her son close again. There were such mixed feelings about that: she so wanted him to grown strong and sure, and yet a part of her wanted him to stay her little boy. Before she could respond further though, her son had edged onto her lap, wrapping his blankets around his shoulders.

"Except I'll bring some honey from the tree for you, Nana," he went on tiredly, sleep's fingers pulling him towards the realm of dreams. His small voice drained to a drowsy babble, "I will…then you will not need me to be your _glî_ anymore…" 

"Oh , _pen-tithen," Thilómë laid another kiss in his hair, getting up from her spot on the bed, "You will always be my __tithen glî, Legolas. Always."_


	4. Anticipation

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**~*~Responses to Reviewers~*~**

***Muggles: Great to hear from you (squeal and all!). Legolas is extremely excited for his SML, as you shall see. Those wings shall get used soon enough. : )**

***LOTRFaith: Yes…I think little Legolas is sweet as honey---glad that you enjoyed the chapter. **

***Listette: Hi! Thank you for your note…I loved the comparisons of Thranduil and Thilómë to parents in general. : )**

***daw the minstrel: I had been mulling over the butterfly comparison after I used it in "Ardent". Glad to see that you are still enjoying Aldandil. **

I too get sappy over those little scenes…I truly enjoy writing them, and reading about them in other people's fics. 

***Dragon-of-the-North: I always love seeing you pick up on Legolas' snippets of humor...I think everyone shall see a little more of it as he gets older. As for the palace being his "house", it just seemed a natural, childish thing to do. : )**

Yes---Legolas is asking his father about his SML in his own little way, and doesn't want to set himself up for disappointment. Very happy that you liked Thranduil's response…I'm thrilled that you like the way I portray him. And yes, he was rather gleeful at his son's excitement. 

"King Aldandil the Silver Wolf" *slight grin* He might have something to say to that…

Yes, Thranduil came up with the story. Children can reduce fierce, stubborn Elvenkings to do sappy, nice things. I liked compromise stories too---nobody lost that way. 

As for Legolas, honey, and _glî, we shall just let the story develop. : )_

You have pinned me, _mellon__ nin. I am rather attached to my little Legolas character, but am warming up to the idea of an excited little Sein Maethor and later a "confident, strong elven warrior". Praises that the change does not need to happen overnight…I had better not have any children; I fear I would be worse than dear Thilómë! _

***None: Legolas' warrior training is coming…glad you like his family: he deserves a good one. **

***Lady of Legolas: Glad you like Aldandil: he is a loving older bro, and he was thrilled when his younger brother climbed that tree (it is a bit of a continuation of something that happened in "Ardent"). As for Thilómë being a typical good mom, I think she is…though a little overprotective. : )**

***SperryDee and Charlie: Glad to see that you could tie the chapter in with something from Real Life. I love hearing about that from reviewers. My mother used to read picture books and "Little House on the Prairie" to me. **

Poor Charlie! Glad to hear she's all right. 

***Nilmandra: Glad you liked the parental bits. I am not a parent, but it has always seemed that most fathers get excited about such things while many mothers have a little trouble letting go. I agree, Tolkien and Eru probably did intend a close knit, loving family. **

***Dragon: I enjoyed writing each bit, so I am glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself! **

***Iluvien: Well, I am thrilled to hear that you like this story even if it isn't a romance! I shall have to include a snippet or two of Thranduil and Thilómë alone for you. : )**

_Glî_ seemed liked an appropriate little name for Legolas, and Thilómë seems the type of mother that would use it. Glad you like it. We shall see Legolas get busy with 'little warrior' activities soon. 

***narcolinde: No offense taken, although it would be nice to know what it is that irks you about these notes. I will probably never consider posting the notes as separate chapters, but I am considering putting them at the end of the chapters. **

I am glad to hear that you like the story---please continue to enjoy yourself!

***The Illustrious Craft: Thank you for your kind note. How wonderful that you can relate Thilómë's feelings to your own. May you be blessed with many sweet moments and memories with your own "pen-tithen". **

***waseom: Glad you liked Thranduil's approach to Legolas' SML. Seemed like something he would do. **

I am not a mother either, but there have been instances when I've felt a little like Thilómë. : ) And Aldandil. 

As for Nim, his role is being unfortunately cut-down from "Ardent"---although he'll be sticking around in Mirkwood in case he's needed. You'll get your snippets of him. : )

***purplesmackers: Thank you for your great comments! Grab your cocoa, cuz I've finally updated! I wasn't thinking about Mother's or Father's Day, but was thrilled with your connections! **

I'm happy to hear that you love the family…it seemed to me that Legolas (and Thranduil) deserved a happy time in fic-land (apart from the problems surrounding Thilómë and Legolas). 

Don't ever worry about rambling…I am a horrible rambler myself, and I love rambling reviews. 

~*~~*~~*~

**Anyone else: Enjoy yourselves. Drop me a line when you get the chance; I would love to hear from you! **

**Author's Notes: I have stopped using "Legolas's" in favor of "Legolas'". It has been irking me for awhile. **

The next update could occur anywhere from a few days to a week from now. This is something of a transition chapter: lots of _Sein Maethor Laer_ fun and family reactions next time…maybe I can work in some humor too. 

Comments and questions are always more than welcome!

On the "real life" side of things: Happy Graduation to anyone experiencing that fun occasion this Spring, Happy Memorial Day to all Americans, and a great summer to everyone else! 

--Aranel

aranels@hotmail.com

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

**Chapter 4~*~Anticipation **

Legolas tried desperately to hold still, but there was a certain amount of desire to see what his mother was doing to his hair. Ever time he moved to look over a shoulder though, Nana would pull slightly, the silky strands held tightly between her fingers. He could feel little prickles behind his ears, and damp locks still dangling at his neck. Nana had never attempted anything like this before, much preferring to simply part his hair at the side, letting it hang freely down his back. 

"Hold still, _glî," Thilómë twisted the locks one over another, dampening her comb again. Never had dressing hair been so difficult, and the thought that she would have to do this every day for a good number of years made her sigh audibly. With Aldandil, the same task had taken a matter of minutes, the disentangling of his silver hair taking far longer than the actual braiding.  The simple task seemed to increase in difficulty a hundred times over with Legolas, for his hair still held a certain degree of babyish thinness and softness, and it managed to slip easily out of the restraining braid multiple times. Towards the end, the work was easier, and Thilómë fastened the end with a tightly wrapped leather thong, hoping against hope that her son would not find a reason to pull it out. _

"Done," she breathed, passing a hand over Legolas' blond head.  She handed him the garment that she had carefully pressed herself, despite knowing that it would soon be wrinkled and dirtied. There was a certain amount of delight in seeing her son pull it over his arms, poking his head through the top and tugging it down for the first time. 

Legolas stood unmoving for his mother as she smoothed the training tunic, allowing Nana to adjust it at his shoulders, to make sure that everything was just right. Finally she nudged him towards the door with a little smile, "All right, you may show your ada now." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil walked to the dining hall slowly, not exactly sure of what this day would hold. The much anticipated _Sein Maethor Laer celebrations were in order, and his younger son was so filled with shaky excitement that the ruler of Mirkwood was worried the child might work himself into pudding before he was permitted to stand on a training green. _

The Elvenking slipped into the hall, taking the seat at the head of the small table. It was a smaller hall, reserved for family meals and small groups. His older son, Aldandil, was already seated.

"Good morning, Adar," the silver-haired young Elf smiled brightly, now pouring himself a glass of pulpy peach nectar. 

Thranduil removed the napkin from his plate, shaking it out, "Good morning."

"Good morning, Ada," Legolas rushed in, followed more slowly by his mother. The child nearly knocked over his chair as he scrambled onto it hastily. The celebrations started as soon as breakfast was over, and hopefully breakfast would not take long. 

"Slow down, Legolas," Thranduil managed an amused smile. The king straightened in his chair, beckoning the child, "Come over here and let me look at you."

Legolas slipped from his chair, stepping over to his father. He was suddenly aware of the long braid slapping against his back as he walked, and the way the white training garments must look coupled with his pale skin. It was a rather hesitant Elfling that stood before the king that morning.

Thranduil regarded his son for a long moment. It seemed so strange for Legolas to have his light hair pulled tight behind his head, to be garbed in a training tunic. He had somehow expected his son to look suddenly older and stronger, but Legolas still seemed so little, so fragile…no different than he had a year ago when told he would be allowed start his training. He lifted the small chin with a long finger, managing a smile for the child, "Very good. Now you must eat a good breakfast, just as all warriors do."

The small face of his son brightened considerably, "Yes, Ada!" 

Thranduil managed a short laugh, watching as the child carefully (but still messily) spread creamy butter and strawberry jam on a thick slice of bread, cutting it awkwardly with the butter knife. 

"Ada," Legolas held up the knife dripping with syrup, "When do I get a real knife?"

"When you are old enough, and when you are responsible enough," Thranduil replied, consciously leaving out 'and when you are strong enough', though, he reflected, being strong enough had never seemed a conscious factor with Aldandil. He dismissed the musings, grinning at his younger son, "And you will not cut bread with it."

Legolas gave his father a smile, keeping his lips closed around a mouthful of sweet jam. In moments the day seemed to be filling with promises for a very happy _Sein Maethor Laer. Several of Ada's counselors slipped in and out of the dining hall with well wishes, some even saying that they would be present for the celebrations and would keep an eye out for him. Caladir had bent to his ear, whispering a message just for him, "You shall be a fine _Sein Maethor_, Legolas. Your ada must be very proud." Vanima, one of the cooks, had slipped a pastry saved from last night's dessert tray next to his plate, and Aldandil had promised a surprise after supper this evening. Having a __Sein Maethor Laer was even better than celebrating his conception day!_

Now he caught his healer ducking into the doorway, checking to be sure that it was all right to come in. It had been awhile since Nim had eaten breakfast with the family. Now the Imladris Elf gave Legolas a slight smile, "Today is an exciting day for you, is it not?"

"Oh, yes," Legolas responded as he slathered another cut of bread with butter and jam. 

Nimaron raised a critical eyebrow at the child's work, for the Elfling currently held about as much jam as he did bread. "This year's jam will have hardly been shelved before you swallow it all, Legolas," the dark-haired healer commented, "We should save some for the winter, should we not?"

"Strawberry season has hardly started," Legolas reasoned, folding his slice of bread in half. Globs of seedy red jam spilled over his fingers, "We can make more."

"Ah, ah, ah!" the child's mother caught him before he could lick the sweet spread off of his hand. Thilómë picked up a napkin, handing it to her son, "Not at the table."

"And after you've just told him to conserve it," Aldandil wore a wry smile, shooting his grinning look at Nimaron, "You should really confiscate that napkin; save the jam on it for winter." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Why did they have to walk so slowly? Legolas struggled to free his hand from his father's, but Ada had a very good grip. "Ada," the Elfling looked up, a little irritated, "Please let me go. I'll be all right."

"You are just fine now," Thranduil spoke evenly, not changing his pace. It would not be difficult to lose such a small Elfling in the crowds of people gathered for _Sein Maethor Laer, even though the child was wearing the purposefully easy to spot white training tunic. He looked down at his impatient child, "Perhaps you would enjoy seeing everything from a bit further up." _

"Yes, Ada!" Legolas was soon on his father's shoulders. The training greens were covered with bright picnic blankets and people, and he could see the large sectioned off green where everything was to take place. The training instructors were all standing together already, and line after anxious line of students were sitting cross-legged on the ground. Caladir, one of Ada's counselors, was darting around to make sure that everything was ready, and Arasil's mother, Lalwen, was talking to a group of rather excited looking young maidens in a far off corner. Legolas did not remember much of the last _Sein Maethor Laer celebration, which made this one even more excellent. _

"Legolas, _glî, Ada and I must join everyone on the green now," Thilómë lifted her younger son from his father's shoulders, setting him down on the blanket already spread out near the green, "Everything will happen just as we said. Enjoy yourself, and listen for your name." _

Legolas nodded, settling himself onto the blanket. He glanced to be sure that Aldan and Nim were also sitting, then watched as his parents made their way to the green. People had already started to sing, and he could see Arasil hopping around on his picnic blanket not too far away. 

Everything would start very soon…and yet it seemed not quite soon enough. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

A/N: I have realized that the Responses to Reviewers are getting very long. It would help me greatly if you would indicate on your review if you prefer these notes at the beginning or end of a chapter. Majority rules on this one. 

6-14-03: In case you didn't catch it, there is another significant time shift since the last chapter: about a year has passed between Thranduil telling Legolas he will be allowed to participate, and the actual _Sein__ Maethor Laer celebration. Much thanks to Dragon for pointing out that this wasn't quite clear. _


	5. Lots of Things

**Disclaimer:** **All _recognizable_ characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Author's Notes:** *Hooray!!* I've finally been able to upload! First of all, I apologize for such a late update: I did not expect this to take so long. This chapter is _much longer than usual, though, so hopefully that makes up for it. _

The chapter is also a little different from my others: there is a whole lot of excessive SML detail. Normally I edit most of this extra stuff out, and focus on Legolas and his family, but this time I've left quite a bit in. Let me know if it was actually interesting or just plain boring. : )

Second, **reviewer responses are now located at the bottom of the post**. Thank you to all of those who gave their opinion on their placement. I am going to assume that you will be reading your response after the chapter, so the approach may be slightly different than before. 

**Sindarin** (or a mutilated Elven language that Aranel considers to be Sindarin): 

_Sein Maethor Laer_ = New Warrior Summer, an original concept. 

_Sein Maethorim_ = New warriors (I think) 

**As always, questions and comments are more than welcome. **

--Aranel

aranels@hotmail.com

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

**Chapter 5~*~Lots of Things**

Legolas could hardly sit still. It was as though a swarm of furry bumblebees had all decided to tickle him at once, making him wriggle away from whirring wings and fuzzy, tumble-y bodies. His brother's hands on his shoulders did nothing to ease the excited twitches and bounces, and Nim repeatedly pulled his fingers from his mouth, reiterating over and over, _I do not think Mirkwood warriors suck on their fingers…it would make for very slimy handclasps and bow grips_. 

Oh, but there was singing and shouting and everyone else was excited too! Someone had started a chant, _the chant: the signal that everything was to begin. There were movements on the ceremony green as everyone stood up and took their assigned places. Legolas could see his father and mother standing together in the center of the sectioned off area, and all the lines of warriors-in-training rising behind them. Ada was smiling his thin-but-amused smile, and Nana beamed next to him, her fingers curled tightly around the handle of a basket filled with white flowers. _

"Welcome, welcome," Ada was moving his hands in the way that said 'Settle down!', but Legolas, try as he might, could not settle down. Ada had started to speak, but every word slipped into one pointed little ear and right out the other. 

"This shall be a very long day," Aldandil glanced over to Nimaron, "They do not call the new ones up until almost the very end." A mischievous smirk spread over his face, "Of course, your day shall be longer than mine, as I shall be called up there shortly."

"Why?" Legolas' attention was suddenly focused on something other than his own part in the celebrations. 

"So that everyone can look at me, just as they are looking at Adar and Naneth," Aldandil shifted the child from his lap to the ground, giving him a mischievous smile as he pointed towards a corner of the green, "Do you see Galion over there? He is searching for me, but cannot see me."

Legolas looked, and true to Aldan's word, the butler was glancing nervously about. His brother rose from the ground at a pause during their father's speech, pulling at the child's long braid, "I had best put an end to his worries, Legolas. Have fun." With another smile, Aldandil acknowledged that he would have much rather stayed on the picnic blanket to enjoy the celebrations from his younger brother's perspective.

~*~~*~~*~

"How much longer?" Legolas sighed, sounding irritated, "How long until they _do_ everything?" The ceremony had quickly turned from a songfest into a _speech-fest. One training instructor after another had stepped forward to share the improvements and achievements of his students, and Legolas had easily lost all interest. _

 "I do not know, Legolas," Nimaron responded, "I have never been to a _Sein Maethor Laer _cerebration before."

"_Never?" the child's voice was incredulous, his eyes wide. __Everyone had been to at least one. _

"Never," Nimaron responded shortly.

"I suppose not, since you're a healer," Legolas decided, peering back to the green where yet another training instructor was speaking about his group's accomplishments. 

"Oh, so you think that because I am a healer that I have never held a sword?" Nimaron gave his charge a wide smile. 

Legolas stared a moment at the Imladris Elf. He had certainly never seen Nim handle a sword, or any other weapon, for that matter (unless you counted the needles in the healing wing…). Nor had he ever seen the healer wear anything but the long, colorful robes of Imladris: certainly not things that one wore when sparring or fighting. Nim had never told stories or sung songs about battle, instead choosing to share tales and lays of birds flying to their winter homes and deer racing through the forest. Legolas tried to picture his healer in a short tunic, a gleaming sword in hand, but the image would not come. 

"You're teasing me," Legolas finally responded, a little confused, "You're not a warrior, are you?"

"I would not say that," Nimaron responded with a slight smile. 

"Then you should run, and you can be made a warrior of Mirkwood," Legolas looked back to the line of older _Sein Maethorim. Nim was much older than them, but maybe Ada would make an exception, "Nana can fix your braids for you." _

Nimaron chuckled quietly as small fingers attempted to free a side braid from its restrained place behind his head, and easily steered the Elfling's hands away from his hair, "I wear them like this on purpose, Legolas. A healer's hair cannot be in the way when he or she is looking over someone." 

"That would tickle," Legolas conceded, considering the times when the healer had bent over a scratched arm or dust-infested eye. 

"Yes, it would." 

There was a slight silence, and then the small voice of King Thranduil's younger son piped up again, "Are you a warrior?"

"In my own way," Nimaron responded vaguely. Perhaps someday Legolas would figure out that healing wounds was as difficult as dealing them sometimes was. 

"What do you mean?" Why couldn't grown-ups ever say what they meant? It was as though they tried to be confusing on purpose sometimes. 

The healer's response was as simple as before, "In my own way, Legolas. In my own way, I am."

Well, he would just have to try a different approach. "Were you at Dagorlad? My ada was there." 

"Oh, no. I was only a small child then, smaller than you. My adar was there though," Nimaron gazed back at the green, deciding that Aldandil was right when he had mentioned that today would be a long day. 

"Does he tell you stories of it then? My ada has told me a little." Maybe Nim would tell an interesting story, with banners and war tents and proud horses stomping their feet. 

"No."

"Why not?" Legolas glanced up towards the Imladris Elf, wondering. 

"He was not able," Nimaron drew in a long breath, patting the child's shoulder. Today was not a day for mentioning the downsides to being a warrior, and the healer gestured towards the Elfling's parents, "Look back to the green, Legolas. What are they doing now?" 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil grinned, glad to finally reach the more significant and exciting part of the ceremony, "Today marks another turn of the circle: places are opened and filled, everything shifts." Out of the corner of his eye he caught Thilómë pressing her fingers together in her nervous, deep-thinking way, "Some may be hesitant for such a thing, but others," here he glanced at his over-excited child, "Are rather anxious. Either way, this thing, like so many others, is only waiting to begin. Therefore, let us begin." 

At this there was something of a cheer, and a swallow flying overhead might have seen the fluid motion of a line of tall _Sein Maethorim _stepping back out of their places. There was then a gap in the organized group of trainees, though their masters still stood at the sides. 

"Master Menaith," an instructor of the next oldest group turned to the head master of the group that had just vacated their spots, gesturing to his own students, "These I commit to your hands, so that they might gain instruction and guidance by them, and so that your hands may not remain empty." 

The indicated group then stepped back into the spots left vacant by the oldest group. This continued until all the groups had "moved up", and the only youngest group had yet to move. 

"Master Calóm, these I commit to your hands, so that they might gain instruction and guidance by them, and so that your hands may not remain empty," the instructor of the youngest group watched as his students stepped back, a small smile of approval gracing his features. In five years they had learned much, including the ability to stand still. 

"Master Rossion, your hands are now empty," Thranduil turned his attention to the instructor. It surprised him how sad the young master looked today, compared to the undeniably hesitant look he had held five years ago when first inducted as a training instructor. 

The instructor nodded slightly in acknowledgement, "Yes, they are."

"No they aren't!" Legolas hissed into Nimaron's ear, "Arasil and I are going to be in his group." 

"There are many that believe that they should not remain so," Master Menaith stepped away from his new group, smiling at the crowd. He then began calling off names, and one father after another took the hand of a small white-garbed son, walking him up to the ceremony ground. At the sound of "Legolas Thranduilion", Nimaron led the Elfling as far as the edge of the green, where his father took his hand. 

Thilómë stood back, her older son at her shoulder, watching as her husband guided their younger son to his place in the line standing before Master Rossion. _So little…her glî would take the first step into warrior training this day…but still so small…he still fit onto her lap, would still want his kisses goodnight before bed…_A faint smile spread over her face as she glanced at Aldandil, "He looks so excited."

"Who? Adar or Legolas?" Aldandil responded, eyes glistening with amusement. Yes, his younger brother was nearly bouncing on his toes, but his father was not standing as stoically poised as before, and his long fingers could not rest unmoving on Legolas' shoulders. 

Legolas stole glances at his father, surprised at the nervous drumming of Ada's fingertips. Master Rossion had come to stand in front of his ada, and the Elfling bit his lip a little at the thought of spending part of almost every day with this new person. 

"I, King Thranduil Oropherion, commit my son to your hands, Master Rossion, that he might receive instruction and guidance by them," Thranduil began the process, speaking before the other fathers. 

_Did he want this child committed to himself?_ Rossion looked down at the blond head of King Thranduil's son, a feeling of uncertainty suddenly rising up within him. This was his king's child…not only that, but an apparently weak child, and so _small_. Would it be wrong to deny a student? The instructor quickly dismissed the thought, realizing that the king had already spoken the traditional words of commitment, and was now giving him a very proud smile. 

Legolas felt a gentle prod from his father, and hopped to the empty spot in front of him, his fingers grasping somewhat nervously at the loose sides of his tunic. Arasil's ada was now committing him to Master Rossion's tutelage, and then another Elfling's, and another's. Soon enough there was a small line standing near Rossion, and the instructor, his concerns currently dispelled, could not help but grin a little at the thought introducing another young group to their training. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Now there was more movement, and it caught Legolas' attention. As everyone else sat down, the older _Sein Maethor group was walking towards the front of the green, a long, straight line of young Elves. Their faces were all serious, although the Elfling swore he saw their eyes glinting in anticipation, and here and there someone flashed a quick smile at someone else. Their instructors were talking about them, of all the things that they had done throughout their years of training. Then Ada was speaking again, not so much to the crowds as to the anxious __Sein Maethorim. Next Nana moved from one warrior to another, speaking words of blessing as she pushed clusters of flowers into the ribbons behind their heads. After that…oh, Blessed Realm…_after that_ the real fun would begin!_

Thilómë managed to hold back a smile as she reached behind the head of the last _Sein Maethor, tucking a bound cluster of white flowers into place—a sign of the blessing bestowed. The various ways the young Elves responded to this part of the ceremony had always amused her: some were almost bursting with pride, while others shifted uncomfortably. Her own Aldandil had held back nervous laughter so many years ago when, excited herself, she had dropped the blossoms meant for his hair onto the ground. _

There was some shuffling on the green as the maidens from the corner stepped forth, each one standing before a _Sein Maethor. Blades were drawn then, beautiful gleaming Elf-blades, heirlooms and birth gifts. Each long knife or sword was placed in the capable, waiting hands of an Elf-maiden. The young Elves turned their backs to the young ladies, and now Legolas could see the green ribbons and flowers holding back their side braids behind their heads. _

_Whoosh!_ The maidens were doing the steps of a short sword-dance, their feet and blades ever staying within an area of a few foot lengths. At the last step right feet were pointed forward, and every blade was elegantly, slowly, and carefully slid behind a length of confining ribbon. 

"You have pledged, and so may wear the sign of your allegiance and ability," Thranduil pronounced as seriously as ever, but there was a happy gleam in his eyes. 

Blades caught Anor's light as they were brought towards the right shoulders of the maidens, and the green ribbons were sliced, falling like tired leaves into hair, onto the ground. Newly freed braids fell, were pulled, were tugged forward to their new places near pointed ears. Shouts went up to embrace the new warriors of Mirkwood, and each blade was handed back to its owner, the hands of the maidens now used to smooth hair, their soft voices exchanging shared joy and congratulation. 

Each warrior then retrieved his flowers of blessing, tucking them behind the ear of the maiden that had done him the service. Thilómë smiled at this, as she always had. It seemed to be a sign for the maidens: there was no equivalent of _Sein Maethor Laer for them, but that did not mean that the ladies of Mirkwood were not dangerous and skilled. Hadn't Aldandil stormed into the sitting room a month before his ceremony to announce that the girl chosen to free his braids was so precise, she was deadly? Could handle his sword better than he, the Prince of Mirkwood, could? Thilómë smiled gleefully at the memory, now clapping her hands as the people erupted in congratulations. _

Thranduil, nearly laughing with joy at his people's amusement, had to shout his dismissal. He then caught up his younger son amid the excited fervor, smiling his way back to the place where his wife and Aldandil were standing. 

~*~

Legolas shifted in his father's arms, turning this way and that to see everything that was happening. At the ceremony's end, everyone had risen to meet for congratulations, and everything had turned into a happy, crowded _mess_. Now people were gathering every here and there to talk, to start fires in the large roasting rings, and to begin summer dances. Aldandil was helping to section off several greens with long, bright ribbons for competitions and games, and Nana and Ada were waving and shouting felicitations as they made their way to the picnic blanket where they would take their lunch. Already the smells of spitted meats and bubbling caramel were on the air, and it was enough to make the mouth of anyone water. 

~*~

"Are you coming?" Arasil bounded over to where Legolas was sitting with a plate balanced on his knees. Legolas picked up a napkin to wipe marinade paste from his fingers, only to have to the other Elfling bounce on his toes impatiently, "Just lick them! They're starting already!"

Indeed they were! Older students were shooting targets and doing sword duels, throwing spears and javelins and running races. Games had been organized for the young maidens and girls also, and they were busily having showdowns of sword-dance and competitions of archery and running amongst themselves. As Legolas ran in Arasil's tow, the grown-ups sauntering easily behind them, he caught sight of Elves in charge of providing lemonade and caramel apples, and here and there was someone sketching scenes of the day. It was a wonder that they could decide on something to draw, for there was so very much to see!

~*~

"Pick it up, Legolas! Pick it up _right now!" Arasil screamed, hopping up and down in his spot. How could he drop the passing baton? _

Legolas ducked to the ground, retrieving the brightly painted stick and running to Arasil. Aldan had suggested that he participate in this game, and Aldan would get an earful when it was over. Running relays were not 'the most fun of all'. Running relays were not easy. To top it all off, running relays made everyone scream about _not_ dropping batons. 

 "That is right, just pick it up again and go!" Thranduil smiled happily, clapping a little. It was good, so very, very good, to see his child scrambling about with everyone else. No matter if they won or not…it was simply gratifying to see an athletic pink spread over his younger son's face, to watch as Legolas finished his part in the race. 

Thilómë saw her son pass the baton into Arasil's hand; saw him drawing in a deep breath in an effort to stop his panting. She wanted to gather him up into her arms right now, to get him a glass of cold water, to tell him that he would not have to do that again for a very long while…_or perhaps not_. An involuntary smile spread over Thilómë's face as she realized that her son was not only exhausted, but _happy_. 

Legolas dropped cross-legged and relieved in Arasil's vacated spot, watching as the dark-haired Elfling crossed the end mark. The shouts changed from urges to congratulations, and soon Arasil was across the green again, smiling happily at a race well-finished. Perhaps running relays were not so bad after all, not when everyone was so glad afterwards. 

"Very good!" Thranduil scooped his younger son into his arms when the game ended, brushing a few stray, sweaty strands from the child's brow. He glanced from the group of young children gathering for another race to the worn-out Elfling in his arms, remembering that things were not quite the same for him as they were for everyone else, "I have developed quite the yearning for a glass of something refreshing while watching you run about. Would you care to join me for a lemonade?"

Legolas nodded tiredly, swallowing hard. A lemonade would taste very good right about now. He managed a slight smile for his ada, "And a candied apple too?" 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil bit hard into a caramel apple, his still tired brother balanced on a knee. Adar and Naneth had left to ready themselves for the banquet to be thrown for the older _Sein Maethorim, and soon enough he would have to make his way to the palace as well. _

"You did it," he mentioned casually, catching his younger brother's eye before biting into the apple again. 

"Did what?" Legolas responded, licking away a smear of caramel on his upper lip. 

_Did what, indeed!_ Aldandil shook his head in silent and pleased laughter, an arm hugging his brother close about the shoulders. "Lots of things," he finally said, "Lots and lots of things." 

Legolas smiled quietly, picking a glob of caramel from his apple and wrapping it around his finger to suck on. 

_Lots of things.__ Wasn't that the way it was supposed to be? _

Aldandil padded into his younger brother's room, taking a moment from the banquet thrown for the older _Sein Maethorim to check in on the sleeping Elfling. Legolas was curled up between the cool summer sheets, his head pushed deep into the pillow. _

The older Elf quietly laid his promised surprise on the windowsill, an amazed smile spreading over his face as he glanced from the window to the shadow that it left over his brother's bed. What had Legolas said about a year ago?

_I'm like that butterfly. _

"Complete with wings," Aldandil murmured, shaking his head at the dark, sloping shapes the gift left across his brother's back as it blocked out the moonlight. Small, wrinkled wings…more than ready to be aired out. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

~*~**Responses to Reviewers~*~**

***purplesmackers: I found your assessment of Legolas' family very amusing (esp. the bumper sticker part—LOL!): I agree, Thranduil would be quick to encourage his son: you saw it during the relay race. Thilómë is something else, I think; at least right now…she'd rather see Legolas completely removed from such a situation, so he stays nice and safe. Glad you liked the breakfast scene—strawberry jam is my favorite. *glances to fridge, wondering if it is too late at night to fix some toast***

***Dragon-of-the-North: Nin mellon! *hops around—this SML business has made Aranel a little jumpy* It is always so good to hear from you! I hope SML turned out to be worth the anticipation. *g***

Yes, Thilómë is working herself into the proud mother mode, bit by bit, just as Legolas is working himself into 'decent breakfast' mode. : )

You are quite right—Legolas doesn't need any discouragement right now, and Thranduil is making sure of that! SML has been a lot of fun, but regular training isn't all fun and games…as Master Rossion could tell you. 

Glad to hear that you still like Nim! I gave Aldandil the jam line since he always seems to offer the healer highly improbable reasons or suggestions (i.e., uses of modern cookware; laundry). 

Also happy to hear than you like Legolas' nicknames for everyone: 'Nimaron' and 'Aldandil' are quite the mouthfuls. : ) 

***Vic (aka Muggles!): Glad to hear that you enjoyed the chapter: Legolas is indeed beginning to air out those wings of his. We'll see how he handles everything!**

***None: As you could see, everything went just fine for the most part this time around. Glad to hear that you think Legolas is an "adorable Elfling". : )**

***daw the minstrel: Thank you for the note on possessive forms…I've heard before that either form is correct, but was reading a few sections aloud awhile ago, and my tongue got just a little irritated with me! : )**

Glad to hear that you enjoyed the last chapter: I esp. enjoyed your observation on Legolas' current place and his parents' views of him. He's come a long way...and still has quite a ways to go. : )

***narcolinde: Was the story long enough this time? *smirk***

***Lisette: Glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself! Hope this chapter provided some happiness too!**

***Dragon: Whoops! Thanks for pointing out that the time shift wasn't quite detectable—I've added another line and a note in Ch. 4. : )**

As you can see, Legolas did all right with the games…Aldan was sure to pick out a few good ones, and Thranduil made sure lots of tasty lemonade was on hand. : )

***Lindsay: Two reviews! Two are twice as nice. **

~On. Ch. 3: Yes, Thilómë and Thranduil respond in quite different ways…I think Thranduil's always been hoping for moments like this—for Legolas to get a chance to catch up and be "normal", while Thilómë's always accepted things as they are, complete with a weak, but very endearing little Legolas. 

~On Ch. 4: Ah, yes…the silky hair. I've attempted to do hair like that, and it is a challenge. Good thing Legolas' hair is long enough to hold in place. 

Yes…Nim is enjoying his job situation right now: he has a lot of free time to work in the garden, visit with friends (and horses), and read his books…which also means that we see a bit less of him. Loved your observation on people walking in and out of one's life. 

A carnival or amusement park, hmm? Did it stay that way? I was actually thinking of the track and field events that I participated in when I was little…and the huge picnics that always followed. I agree---Legolas has more than enough to wear him out for one day!

***Dot: Hey there! You are more than welcome to join in the reviews! Glad to hear that you enjoyed the last two stories and the situations surrounding everyone!**

So you're enjoying Aldandil, hmm? I think he sees his brother a little differently than the rest of the family…

I'm glad you were able to see Legolas' progression through out the stories…he is a very happy little Elf right now, which is a good thing. : ) 

Yes…Thilómë is having a hard time with all of this…it's esp. difficult with Legolas, since, as you said, he's always needed her so much. And yes, Thranduil! *laughs* He's having a very good time for the most part. 

Thank you for joining us!

***SperryDee and Charlie: So, how do you think Legolas is doing so far? Sorry for such a late update. *bites lip***

I will have to try to check out your fics sometime…things have been pretty busy lately. : ) 

***Nikki: No, an author can never hear that someone loves his/her fics enough! Sorry for the late update…I will have to try harder next time. : )**

***Silmarien: Hi! It's good to hear from you again! And such a long review too!**

Yes…things never seem to come quite soon enough when you're little. I think little Elflings would have trouble waiting too…esp. with grown-ups who seem to have (and take) all the time in the world.

Glad to hear you liked the breakfast scene! Legolas' parents are going through parent-y stuff, of course, and he is just being a kid! I think you're right about Legolas always being Thilómë's little glî…I'm guessing there will be plenty of days when he wishes he _wasn't_ though. : )

Happy that you could see the different sides of Legolas—I think almost every child is like that sometimes. As for trying to decide between the caterpillar and the butterfly, I think we're all struggling…I know I am! 

The hair…oh, yes. Another week or two and Thilómë might just be trying to convince Thranduil, Aldan, or Nim to do it. Of course, she's probably going to go through her "mother-mode" again when Legolas can do it himself…I know I miss doing my little sisters' hair (only it isn't because they can do it themselves…it is because it has all been cut far too short to braid). 

We'll see how Legolas fairs in his training…I don't think Thranduil would have let him go through his SML only to be told he has to wait to start training. Hopefully Master Rossion will agree. 

I never get sick of "redundant babblings"! Babble all you like! In fact, thank you very much for babbling—you've made some excellent points!

***waseom: Nim is still staying busy…he was in charge of keeping Legolas on that picnic blanket for awhile, and I'm sure he was rather amused with the big "sha-bang!" SML turned out to be. As for Aldandil needing his skills, we'll see…I think it's far more likely that he'll get to come along for the roller-coaster ride that Legolas' training might just turn out to be. **

Yes…Thilómë's being a mom, as always…nothing like sending your baby off to school (or, um, warrior training---same thing). 

I think at times Thranduil and Thilómë see past Legolas' weakness…they're just dealing with it every single day though, and it's a little too easy to be reminded of it. *sad smile* Aldandil, on the other hand, isn't stuck in the parental role…definitely more fun to be an older bro.

So you liked Nim's tiny little conversation with Legolas, huh? He had one a bit longer in this chapter. 

Yes…I think this was your longest review. Good job! *sticks 'good reviewer' sticker on waseom's forehead* 

***Lutris: Hi there! Were there enough SML details for you? Sorry to keep you waiting so long!**

Glad to hear that you like Nim—as a nursing student, I've got something of a soft spot for healers…and Elven healers are extremely cool, I think. 

***Iluvien: I think Legolas did all right with his SML, don't you? Glad to hear that you enjoyed the last chapter. : )**

~*~~*~~*~

**Anyone else: I'd love to hear from you also, but if you are the "silent, devoted" type, that's fine too. Enjoy yourselves!**

A **_big_****_ thanks_ to everyone who's recently added me to their favorites' list, whether you review or not. It is a very special place to be, and I'm honored to be there!**

Not sure when the next update will be…it's hard to say. 

On a closing note…I know the SML ceremony turned out to be rather…complicated. Let me know what you thought. : )

--A


	6. Animals, Letters, and Juice

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts belong to the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Author's Notes: Once again, I'm sorry for the delay between updates. Hopefully I'll hit an upswing soon, and work a little faster the next time around!**

**--Aranel**

**aranels@hotmail.com**

**~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~**

**Chapter 6~*~Animals, Letters, and Juice**

The sun had risen bright and shining, and morning spread over the treetops that covered the northern forest of Mirkwood. Here and there a gap in the leaves allowed a ray of light to puddle on the ground below, warming the tenderest shoots of oaks from last autumn's fallen acorns and the delicately unfolding petals of summer flowers. 

The beams of Anor crept into doorways and over thresholds, stroked the open grass of clearings and the backs of running deer. Perhaps most appreciated though, sunlight trickled effortlessly down through the trees and warmed the upturned faces of Wood Elves working and playing, and traveling along their paths. On one of these paths Thilómë walked slowly, taking her time. Her arm swung back and forth rhythmically, her young son's fingers attempting to clasp around her own. The green where Legolas would have his earliest training was not far from home, but she did not want him walking there by himself yet. Today she was taking him there herself, and her little son seemed happy enough with that arrangement. 

Legolas caught sight of the green in the distance, bright ribbons still sectioning it off. There were a few trees at one end, and some Elflings stood in a circle tossing a ball to each other. Two had broken away from the group, and Legolas waved as Arasil rushed over with a pale-haired friend in tow. 

"Hello, Legolas," Arasil bounded over to where Master Rossion was talking with Queen Thilómë. It was sort of strange to consider that the queen was Legolas' nana, and Arasil chewed at his lip a little as he watched Legolas get his good-bye hug. His own nana had done the same to him only a few moments ago. _Be good_, she had said, _And__ be nice. Well, he was going to be nice right now by asking Legolas to join the game. "Come on," Arasil held up the ribbon so that Legolas could duck underneath, "We're playing Animals. Whoever has the ball will say an animal name, and throw the ball. The animal called has to say their sound before they catch the ball, or they're out." Even Legolas could manage that game. _

"It's easy," Arasil's friend, Cúran, offered with a slight smile. He took a good look at the smaller Elfling, remembering how tired Legolas had seemed after the games yesterday. _Poor little thing, his nana had said when the King picked Legolas up, _Too worn out to play_. Somebody would have to take care of him, since his ada wasn't here now. Cúran tried to be encouraging, "And it's fun too!" _

"All right," Legolas nodded. It seemed like a good game. 

~*~

And it would have been, if someone had called his animal name. There were several calls of 'bear' and 'squirrel' and 'wolf', but nobody called his animal. Maybe they had forgotten what he had chosen to be. Maybe they hadn't realized that he still hadn't had a turn. Legolas sucked at his lower lip, watching as the ball was tossed around. Maybe…maybe they just didn't _really_ want him to play.  

Arasil threw the ball again, calling out 'duck' and grinning as Cúran quacked. Cúran in turn paused a moment to consider his choice, then prepared to toss the ball to Legolas. 

"Eeee! Eeee! Eeee!"

 Rossion clenched his teeth a little at the shrieking noise, giving a brief smile to the worried looking mother he had been speaking to. He then turned to where the children were playing, calling, "No more bats!" 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil stepped out of the Great Hall during a recess, making his way to a window where he might be able to see the training greens. His younger son would be out there by now, and it would be nice to catch a small glimpse of him. 

The king caught himself smiling as he found his wife already standing at the chosen window. He slipped up behind her, taking her into an embrace and catching the fingers playing with her necklace within his own. 

"It's so quiet here," Thilómë murmured, rocking slightly in her husband's arms. She continued to stare out the window to where her little one was now sitting cross-legged on the grass with a semicircle of Elflings surrounding their teacher, "It will be quiet almost every day at this time." 

Thranduil looked from the group on the green to the regretful look on his wife's face, and pulled her a little closer against his chest, so that he did not have to lean to meet her ear, "Is that necessarily a bad thing?" 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Why did they have to sit like this? Legolas glanced around the semicircle of his peers, forcing himself to keep his hands folded in his lap. They were not in Ada's court---they were not indoors at all! Master Rossion had shown them each a spot to sit, and then firmly stated that they were to sit cross-legged with their hands in their laps. 

Rossion looked around his little group, trying not to smile at the bending of the rules. Each Elfling was sitting as specified, but some were rocking or swaying, and one had scrunched almost into a ball: though his fingers stayed neatly laced together. Legolas rubbed at his nose with hands still clasped, and Rossion allowed himself a slight grin. He wasn't too sure how that one would fare, or how much extra attention he would require, but today would be an easy day for him.

"When you are here, there are some things that I would like you to remember," he started. 

_Some rules_, Legolas decided. Everyone seemed to have rules. Do not run indoors. Always say _please_ and _thank-you. Use your spoon and fork. Do not interrupt. Sit quietly in Ada's court. Sit quietly at the table when there are guests. __Sit quietly with your legs crossed and your hands in your lap and your ears wide open at the beginning of training each day! _

Each day? They weren't going to spend _every_ day like this, were they?

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Legolas circled around another tree, following a clearly irritated Arasil. They had listened to Master Rossion talk, and then stretched and ran, and now they were playing Follow-the-Leader. It was all right to be walking in circles around trees and hopping over sticks, but he wished his turn to lead would come soon, or perhaps Arasil's. Arasil would think of something fun to do. 

Arasil, in fact, was thinking of several fun things to do…things that were not getting done with Cúran as the leader. He dropped to his hands and knees now, grumbling and crawling in the grass. Usually with Cúran leading, the game could be called "Follow-the-Squirrel", but today it seemed much more like "Follow-the-Turtle". 

Cúran glanced behind him, making sure that everyone was still keeping up---particularly making sure that Legolas was keeping up. He did not want the other Elfling to get tired or hurt, and was happy to see that things were still going well. 

Rossion watched for awhile, surprised at the change in Cúran's playing of the game. He had chosen his neighbor's son expecting an interesting little journey including several hops and runs and surprises, and was oddly rewarded with lolling around trees and skipping. Perhaps it was time to change leaders. 

Not Arasil! Cúran switched places worriedly as Arasil popped up in front, immediately starting to hop on one foot, and then dropping to do a somersault. Arasil wouldn't be careful! Poor Legolas would get left behind!

Legolas turned his somersault, then spun around and jumped onto and off of a tree stump. This was much better! 

Arasil led his troop into the little groove of trees, alternating between hopping on one foot, walking backwards, and skipping as he searched for the next thing to do. "Oh!" he gasped, tripping over a tree root unseen in his backwards travels, and landing firmly on his backside. He took the extended hand of the Elfling who had been following him, springing to his feet, "Thank you!"

The "oh!" and "thank-you!" were repeated cheerily as each child in his turn pretended to trip and fall and get up again. By the time Legolas copied the fall, the entire line was in giggles, and he laughed with the rest, waiting for Cúran to offer a hand as the game dictated. Instead he found himself pulled to his feet. 

"Thank you," Legolas grated, giving Cúran an annoyed glare. He did not need to be hauled up like a toppled baby. 

He was only trying to help. Cúran went through the actions of the pretend trip, wondering what was so horrible about that. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil walked down a corridor, a bundle of letters in his hands. How many of these wretched things would have to be answered? It wouldn't be so awful if letters from Imladris and the Havens didn't come together in big stacks every month or so. The young Elf riffled through the pile, separating out the few that were not meant for his father. There were a few to his mother, and one or two specifically addressed to him, and some for members of the household. Those he would pass on to Galion to be handed out, except for a few which Legolas might like to deliver to people that he knew well. 

Aha, here was one for Nimaron! Legolas would enjoy taking that one. Aldandil turned the folded letter over, noting the smoothness of the paper and delicate little flowers drawn across the folded edge and around the pale purple wax seal. Who was this from? Nimaron didn't have a lady waiting for him at home, did he?

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Snacks! Arasil hopped out of the glade, making a beeline for the lady who had just arrived with a large basket and a pitcher of what looked like apple juice. A snack would taste very good after such a long journey. 

Rossion smiled at the sight of his wife arriving with the picnic she had promised. She was a little early, but soon enough his students' parents would begin to arrive to take them home to their own lunches. 

Eirien managed a wave for her husband, attempting to keep their picnic blanket under her arm. She then dropped the blanket inside the ribbon-ed off area, delightedly surprised when a little line of Rossion's students came and unfolded it, smoothing out the wrinkles. My, but he taught them quite a bit already!

Snack, snack, snack! Arasil patted out another wrinkle, wondering what the lady had brought. Fresh strawberries would taste good, or soft biscuits. Mmm! 

Legolas settled himself on the blanket, folding his hands in his lap again. Nobody had said anything about snacks! What a nice surprise!

Oh, dear. Rossion watched as his small group arranged the blanket, then kneeled or sat down on it. Apparently they assumed that _his_ picnic was for _them. He walked over to sort things out, noticing that Eirien looked fairly confused now. _

"Hello, Eirien!" Cúran waved up at his mother's friend, knowing that some of Eirien's tasty nut bread was probably in the basket.   

"May I please have some juice?" Arasil looked up expectantly at the lady still standing on the other side of the ribbons. He was getting thirsty, and was rather anxious for his glass of juice. 

Eirien looked to her pitcher and basket, and then to the children on the picnic blanket, and finally to her husband, who was looking down at his group. 

"Thank you for helping to spread out our blanket," Rossion said pleasantly enough, "Eirien and I had planned to have a picnic together while all of you were eating your lunches at home." Here he noticed several disappointed looks, and a few very embarrassed ones as well. 

Oh, no! Arasil put his head into his hands. He had just asked for a glass of his teacher's juice! Why had he ever led everyone here? 

"But," Rossion glanced to his wife, "Perhaps if you ask her very nicely, Eirien will check and see if there is enough to share." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Thilómë made her way back to the green, her fingers twisted between her husband's. Thranduil had suggested that they get Legolas together today, and then take lunch out-of-doors in one of the gardens. It was a beautiful day for that, and for this walk through the trees to the training grounds. 

As they approached the little green, Thranduil was surprised to see a very happy little group sitting on a yellow picnic blanket passing around wooden cups and plates of nut bread slathered with butter. He watched as his son popped up, heading towards a tree stump and followed rather frantically by a pale-haired Elfling. That wasn't Arasil, was it? No…Arasil was the dark-haired one rolling back and forth in the grass, then springing up to canter around the blanket. Thranduil was well aware that Eldor raised horses, but he hadn't realized that the Elf had raised his son to act like one. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

"I can get it myself," Legolas set his cup down on the tree stump where Eirien had left the pitcher of juice. 

"I'll pour it for you," Cúran took the pitcher in his hands. It was still half full, and would probably be too heavy for Legolas to lift. 

Legolas moved to take the pitcher himself, "I can do it." Why did Cúran have to help with everything? If he could pour himself a glass of juice at home, then he could pour himself a glass of juice here. 

"I'm pouring it for you. It's too heavy," Cúran tipped the pitcher towards Legolas' cup. 

"No, it isn't," Legolas responded, getting frustrated and grabbing his cup away before Cúran could actually start pouring. He tried to stay calm, "I can do it."

"What is the matter here?" Thranduil looked down at the two, standing on his side of the ribbons. He had expected to meet a rather gleeful Elfling by the look of things, but instead found his son in an apparent argument already. 

"Ada, he won't let me pour!" Legolas held up his cup, looking at Cúran, who had quickly set the pitcher down. 

"I will pour it," Thranduil reached over the low ribbons, easily pouring his son a half-cup of juice. He looked from his irritated child to the somewhat distressed Elfling nearby. Fighting over a pitcher, of all things, "It is only some juice, nothing to quarrel over. I should expect some sort of apology for such silly behavior." 

It was not just some juice. Legolas was not sure exactly_ what_ it _was, but it was more than juice. _

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

"Did you like it?" Aldandil sliced a hot roll, slathering melting butter across the spongy bread inside. 

"Yes," Legolas nodded, picking up a slice of cucumber from his plate. It had been a good time, apart from Cúran's helping and having to apologize for getting upset over the juice. He had already told Ada and Nana the good things that had happened on the way home, and now he answered Aldan's questions too, and enjoyed getting to hear about his brother's first day of training. 

"Did anyone help you too much?" Legolas walked with Aldandil after the meal, heading indoors. 

Aldandil raised an eyebrow, surprised at the question. He let himself grin widely, "Yes, my friends helped me into entirely too much trouble." 

Legolas smiled at the joke, then waited for Aldan to start listening intently again, "But did they try to help you a lot?"

"I thought you liked having help," Aldandil picked his brother up, "See? I'm carrying you now, and you don't mind that. You don't seem to mind having someone wake you up in the morning, although it's something of a bother for me sometimes. You have help with lots of things."

"But not _everything," Legolas responded, but didn't mention anything else. Not with things that he could and wanted to do himself. _

"Well," Aldandil started down a hallway, pausing to pick up the stack of letters that he had left on a table, "You'll have to let them know that you don't need help then." He met his little brother's forehead with his own, smiling, "But then, sometimes you will need help, and sometimes someone else will need it. I need some right now." 

"With what?" Legolas leaned back. 

Aldandil waved a few letters, "Here are some letters for an Elfling to deliver. There are some for Caladir, and one for Vanima, and one for Nimaron." He handed the letters to Legolas and set him down, "Nimaron's looks as though it's from a very interesting person. You'll have to find out who it is." 

"All right," Legolas peered down at the little pile. It would be fun to deliver some letters, "Why do you want to know who Nim's is from?"

"So that I can ask him about the interesting writer," Aldandil answered, then watched his brother scamper off to take the letters to their recipients. So that he could ask the healer about the writer…or give him a very hard time. 

**~*Responses to Reviewers*~**

***Nilmandra: **I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter…I think that parts with Legolas are usually the most fun to write, though Aldandil is the easiest. 

As for Rossion helping Legolas with the class, I think he'll try…though with Cúran around, as little Legolas can attest, there might be a bit too much "help".

The sword-dance was especially fun to write! 

***SperryDee and Charlie:** Yes, Legolas is doing great! His ada and nana are very proud of him, and just plain happy too. I'm glad to hear that horseback riding camp went so well for you. 

***Dragon-of-the-north:** Hey there! I always love reading your reviews, and responding to them. Thank you again for another wonderful (and long, long, long!) review!

I think SML Day is a lot like graduation for the warriors finished with their training…and a bit like a "kindergarten rodeo" for the little ones. You are right, for Legolas this is a very big deal, partially because he gets to join his peers in something. 

I know that I don't include Galion much, but I'm glad you like the snippets of him! He's busy delivering letters right now. : )

I'm very glad that you like Nimaron too…he will not be disappearing anytime soon, for Aldandil must have someone to tease, and though Legolas has come a long way, he isn't quite out of the woods yet. Besides, I'm rather attached to him myself…

Ah, Nimaron has his own past, and he has indeed handled a sword. Perhaps someday I can work in something about his little (ha!) journey into healing. Nimaron would be happy to accept any sympathetic hugs...he is usually the one stuck dishing them out. : )

No, Legolas doesn't need to consider the tough side of being a warrior yet…the fun side is tricky enough as it is!

I'm glad to hear that you liked the SML ceremonies…the sword-dance is one of my own favorite parts. I don't think many "Maidens of Mirkwood" would be the sort to sit inside all day, though I still see them as fairly lady-like…I'm sure several of them own very pretty jeweled hunting knives that often double as dainty letter openers. *smirk*  I'm glad you liked the bit with Aldandil's own SML experiences…and I'm not sure if he's involved with any ladies right now, though he has enjoyed wondering about Nimaron's romantic life in this chapter. 

I'm glad you liked Thilómë and Thranduil's viewpoints again! 

Yes, Legolas does like sweets…I think that's partially Nimaron's fault. 

As I told you before, the butterfly scene was an accident! *shrugs and smiles* It seems to have gone over all right though!

Thank you again for the wonderful review and for the one on the little Éowyn story too. I have a little Éowyn winter story also, and am debating whether or not to wait until cold weather to put it up. : ) 

***daw the minstrel:** Legolas' view is my favorite part too…all that excitement bubbling up and spilling over. Thank you also for the review on the little Éowyn story! 

***waseom:** You just keep up this good reviewing, and I will plaster your forehead in "Good Reviewer" stickers if you want them! *g*

Yes, Nim's ada did die, and he is rather mysterious, I suppose. Someday I might have to share a little of his past…we'll see what kind of demand there is. 

Rossion did consider "rejecting" Legolas for a split-second, but that would be no good, would it? "Master R" isn't such a bad teacher...he'll figure out how to handle things. 

Thranduil has figured out several sneaky ways to help his son…he's a pretty smart Elf. 

I love apple slices in caramel dip…so caramel apples it was. Though now I'm hungry for chocolate chip cookies…

***None:** Don't ever feel like you have to apologize for disagreeing with something in this fic! Everyone is entitled to their own opinions and interpretations. : ) However, I'm very interested in any quotes you have on the female Elves and weapons training. 

I'm glad to hear that you enjoyed the chapter---Little Legolas seems to rate fairly high in the "adorable and cute" category. I'm glad that you liked seeing Thranduil commit Legolas over to Rossion. : )

BTW: There is no such thing as writing too much! No such thing! 

***purplesmackers**: Ah…I'm very glad that I was finally able to upload too, and that I've finally gotten this chapter up too. *smirk* 

I'm glad to hear that you enjoyed so many parts of the chapter. I like the race part too: there are a lot of things that we can see in it that we don't see otherwise, particularly Legolas' still present "weakness" but his desire to participate and have fun anyway. 

I enjoy all your observations on Thranduil too: he is a very proud and dedicated dad, I think, though he doesn't let Legolas get away with everything. : )

***Lutris:** I'm glad to hear that the details made you feel that you were there. Readers are always welcome to imagine themselves into the story. : ) 

And you want more Nim? We didn't see him exactly in this chapter, but Aldandil did have fun examining that pretty letter. : )

***Nikki**: Believe it or not, I had planned to cut the butterfly bit. I'm glad to hear that you liked it! Thank you for the comment on waiting for chapters…I believe I needed it. : )

***Dot:** On the details of SML: My parents have always encouraged my sisters and I to develop our imaginations, and mine is perhaps a little overactive…I always hope that readers see the same things that I have, and details are the best way to attempt that. : )

Yes, Nim was stuck with some tough questions at the moment, and yes, his father was killed at Dagorlad. Legolas is focused on the fun things about being a warrior…why ever wouldn't Nim want to run around and shoot a bow? : )

Legolas' parents are very proud of him…every little success is special. 

***Dragon:** The details are fun to write, and Legolas has decided that relays are worth the effort. I will attempt to "Write! Write!" and get my chapters up a little faster! 

***Iluvien:** Glad you liked the details…I wasn't sure how they'd go over. : )

Yes, Legolas fidgeted, but he hasn't messed anything up yet. Main word being _yet_. 

Aldandil usually sees the upside of things: he was very amused at his excited father. 

You want to know about the maiden who loosed Aldandil's braids? Perhaps Aldan will have to tell Legolas about that little experience someday. He is just very lucky that she had no desire to cut the braids _off_. 

***Silmarien:** A short review is better than no review! Thank you for adding this to your list. : )

Legolas is settling into training, and is getting along fairly well with the other Elflings so far (though Cúran got him a little irritated). I'm glad to hear that you're so proud of him. 

I don't think it's wrong to get attached to a story a bit…as for feeling like Thilómë,  I believe several of us are in the same boat. I've been having a hard time switching from cuddly little scenes with Nana to times running around with other Elflings. *g*

Thranduil and Thilómë are proud of their sons…I think Elves, even the ones with lots to do, would try extra hard to get time with their children, since children are so precious to their people. 

I'm so happy that you liked the sword-dance and Elf-maidens! I suppose I see the "Maidens of Mirkwood" as ladies…but fairly dangerous ladies. I doubt they'd go to war or formally train with weapons, but I can definitely see them practicing with their parents and hunting once in awhile. As for the sword-dance, I would much prefer to be the maiden than the warrior: I wouldn't want anyone swinging a sword so close to my head…perhaps this is something of an endurance or trust test for those young guys!

***~C~:** Hi there! Thank you for your comments---I probably don't deserve them all, but I'm very happy to get them!

I'm glad that you like seeing Thranduil as a devoted, loving father. When I write, I picture him being more stern (and impatient) when dealing with his court, advisors, and visitors, but different around his own family…especially when considering that he almost lost Legolas. 

I'm happy, too, that you like the way that Legolas is portrayed…little Elflings are a lot of fun to write. : )

***Zoya:** Hey! Glad to have you back! I've been updating slowly, so don't worry. Hope your exams went well, and that you've enjoyed the chapters. : )

***Lindsay: **Hey there! I'm sorry to hear that your first review didn't stick…ff.net can be a real pain sometimes. Thanks so much for re-writing it!

I'm glad you liked the SML details, as well as Nimaron's part in the chapter. LOL to him being a nag! 

*grins* Yes, Aldandil provides a lot of lighter moments, though they don't all get written down. Glad you liked his comment, as well as his experience with that Elf-maiden. : ) I enjoy writing the moments shared by the brothers…I see Aldandil being an encourager for his little brother, but someone who likes to have an honest good time as well…hence the occasional jokes and efforts to get Legolas into trees, ponds, and trouble. Thanks for your comments on the last scene!

We'll see about Master Rossion…I'm still working out the details on him in my little mind, though he was in this chapter. 

And yes! I definitely think that most of those Elf ladies could handle a weapon , though they might only use it in self-defense or hunting (or annoying Aldandil…). 

***Anyone else:** Hello! I hope you've been enjoying yourselves---drop me a line if you get a chance! I always love to hear what everyone thinks. 

If anyone is interested, I've also done a little Éowyn story: one flick fic. 

Thank you again for reading!

--A


	7. Love, Marriage, and Gifts

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Author's Notes: **This update comes much later than anticipated. Thank you to everyone who continues to read. : )

Comments and questions are always welcome. 

--Aranel (aranels@hotmail.com)

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Chapter 7~*~Love, Marriage, and Gifts

Teatime. _That, Nimaron observed, _would be the time in Imladris at this moment_. If the day there was pleasant as the day here, trays covered in lacy cloth and set with services of china or silver would be carried outside, and then set on similarly covered tables in gardens or on airy porticos. The healer tapped his half empty cup against its matching saucer, pausing in his walk to admire the way the pieces cleverly resembled a water lily and its pad when held together. _

Nimaron pushed open the door to the stillroom with a shoulder, making his way to the table where he normally worked. Today the room was empty, save for himself, and he gazed over the presses and shelves. There were large glass jars of dried blossoms and leaves, stoppered bottles of essential and base oils, and containers of specially mixed lotions and salves. Bunches of drying flower stalks and leaves hung from the ceiling, and one far cupboard housed several special drying racks of petals, leaves, and seeds. Nimaron checked on these, decided that they could use another day of drying, and then sat down at his desk with little more to do than add a few more remedy recipes to records that the Mirkwood healers kept. 

_Such a quiet day_, he observed, writing down the instructions for making good comfrey oil. Most days had seemed sinfully quiet and relaxed lately. Nimaron reached for his cup again, draining the remaining liquid. 

"Nim! Nim! I need you! Nim!"

At the urgent sound Nimaron gagged on his mouthful of tea, swallowing hard and hastily getting up from his chair to look outside, "What is the matter, Legolas?"

Hearing the door to the stillroom open, Legolas hurried in that direction, waving the letter from Aldandil about, "I have something for you!" He waited for the healer to take the piece of paper, "I looked all over for you!" 

"You are not hurt?" Nimaron took the battered letter, looking down at the Elfling in front of him. The child's braid was coming loose and he still hadn't changed out of his rumpled tunic, but there seemed to be no scratches or bruises. 

"No," Legolas stared back. Why should he be hurt, of all things? 

Nimaron sighed, raising his eyebrows as he examined his letter. The corners of the folded paper were unnaturally worn and one was…_wet_. It seemed to have been folded multiple times, and was slightly crumpled, as though it had been pushed into a pocket at one point. Little fingerprints…gummy pinkish-colored prints…were littered here and there. The healer glanced at the Elfling again, "You had a cherry tart today?"

"More strawberry jam," Legolas responded, "Can I break the seal?"

"Sure," Nimaron handed the letter to the child, drawing in another sigh as the paper was further crumpled in Legolas' endeavors to open it. Finally the letter was handed back, and Nimaron attempted to smooth it somewhat on his desk. 

"Who is it from?" Legolas peered over the desk-top, trying to see the upside-side down signature at the bottom of the page. 

"My sister," Nimaron dropped into his chair, only to have the Elfling clamber onto his lap. Such a strange child. Why was it that Legolas refused such a position when he attempted to bandage a hurt finger, but readily sat here now? The healer shook his head at the wondering, holding the paper at an odd angle in order to be able to see it around Legolas' head. 

"What does she say?" Legolas tried to read the letter, but it was rather difficult when Nim wouldn't keep it in front of him. All he could actually catch was the greeting. "Why does she call you _Aron-nin_?" 

"It's a nickname, silly. You call me 'Nim', but she calls me 'Aron'," Nimaron relaxed in his chair, "She says that the lovage is flowering now, so she is going to make cordial. The weather has been very nice, and her students do not want to stay indoors for their lessons. She is a harpist, and teaches her way to others. Let me see," Nimaron scanned through the letter, then continued with an over-wide smile, "She says that she misses me terribly, but that I must come home for her wedding, as they have finally set a date. After she is married, she will not miss me so much, I think." Nimaron folded the letter over, setting it on his desk, "Though she may miss her friends, since her intended lives further into the woodlands about Imladris." 

"What is her name?" Legolas began to slide from Nimaron's lap, deciding that he had still not gotten the information that Aldan wanted. 

"Morthiniel," Nimaron set the child on the floor, then got up to open the door for him, "But I call her Thiniel."  

~*~~*~~*~

 Thilómë scanned the books in the library, looking for a particular one for this afternoon. Where was it? She had placed it here amongst the family favorites just last week, planning to have Legolas start it after his first day of training, just as Aldandil had.  She tapped her fingers along the bindings, eyes skipping from one title to another, and finally pausing on a thin, unmarked book. 

It wasn't a book actually, not a normal book anyway. She tilted it in and out with a finger, not sure whether she wanted to open it up now or not. Thilómë tipped it out a bit further, smiling faintly at the dark threads of the binding. She drew it from the shelf, slapping it against a hand as she searched for her younger son's story. Soon she caught sight of the book she had originally come for, and Thilómë slipped that one out as well. She looked at the cover of her unanticipated find, smiling. Perhaps Legolas would not be the only one she would be reading with today. 

~*~~*~~*~

"Her name is Morthiniel, but Nim calls her Thiniel. She calls him Aron-nin," Legolas crawled onto his brother's bed, glancing around the room. There were so many interesting things in Aldan's chambers…the bed was bigger, and had more pillows, for one thing.  Legolas began constructing a fort for himself out of the numerous pillows, "She misses Nim a lot, but he says that will change after she gets married. He has to go home for the wedding. After that Morthiniel is going to live in the forest."

Aldandil turned around in his desk chair, his eyes wide, "Nimaron told you all of that?" How could that healer possibly reveal so much to Legolas, when he himself had not heard a single word of this development? Nimaron, _their Nimaron_, was getting married? And bringing a new wife back to the Wood? "Did he say anything else?"

"Umm…" Legolas sucked on a finger, "She plays the harp, and…and…love is in bloom. I think." 

"Her name is Morthiniel?" Aldandil gripped the back of his chair. This was truly something unexpected. Nimaron had been living in Mirkwood for five years, with not one visit back to his home. How was this possible?

 "Yes," Legolas nodded, flopping into his pillow fort. He looked up at the birds painted on Aldan's ceiling, wondering how the artist had managed to put them there. His gaze traveled to the bow resting beside the door, the dark wood decorated with golden words of blessing snaking up and around the limbs. It would be such an exciting day when he was finally allowed to hold a bow like that. How did it feel, exactly, to have one in your hands, to pull an arrow back? 

"I think I had better talk to Nimaron," Aldandil said, more to himself than to his brother. He looked up at a tap on the door to see his mother standing there, "Hello, Naneth."

"Hello, Aldandil," Thilómë smiled, then turned to her younger son, "Legolas, I have something that I would like for you to read to me." She waited for the Elfling to join her at the door, "What were the two of you talking about in here? Did Aldandil show you your surprise?" 

"No!" Legolas' eyes widened at being reminded of the promised surprise, and he turned to Aldandil, "Can I have it now?"

Thilómë took Legolas' hand, tapping a book lightly on his head, "I think you had better wait until after supper, _glî." She already knew what the surprise was, and was fairly sure that if it were received now, she would never get him through reading and dinner. _

Aldandil grinned at the retreating forms of his mother and brother, anticipating the surprise a little himself. For now though, he would hunt down his brother's healer. 

~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil padded into the sitting room with a handful of letters, already having sifted through the pile Aldandil had brought to him. Most could be attended by an advisor, and there were a few that he had delegated to his son. These last remaining ones he would devote time to himself, and the best way to do that was to read them while at ease. 

Entering the sunlit room, Thranduil found that he was not the only one taking advantage of relaxed atmosphere. He smiled at the sight of his wife and younger son sitting on a couch near the windows, Legolas reading aloud to Thilómë. Perhaps the letters could wait a few moments longer. The king headed for a chair, picking up the book resting on it before sitting down. 

What was this doing here? Thranduil smoothed a hand over the dark cover, and then flipped through the pages, immediately recognizing the leaves and flowers drawn in most of the margins. It was a habit his wife shared with their older son, to aimlessly decorate their papers while deciding what to write. He let the book fall open to a random page, not so much reading what his wife had written as remembering her writing it. There were small blocks written in his own bold hand here and there, and he could remember penning those too, always in quiet moments. So many memories in here…

~*~~*~~*~

"So, what did you wish to talk about?" Nimaron turned to look at Aldandil, holding Lintapilin's reins lightly in a hand. He still found it surprising how easily those in Mirkwood would ride a horse unsaddled and unbridled, even a horse like Aldandil's Nauroch. The healer's eyes took in the hesitant look on the older prince's face, wondering just why Aldandil had asked him to come riding, "I might not be the best healer to speak to, Aldandil, if you are concerned about something." 

"It's nothing like that," Aldandil responded quickly, trying to decide how to begin this conversation. If only there were some obvious hint to comment on…but Nimaron did not look happily lovesick, as Aldandil had guessed he might, nor did he wear any sign of his ladylove, not even the silver ring of betrothal. The older prince of Mirkwood sighed, deciding that it might be easiest just to ask. "Nimaron, why didn't you mention anything about this marriage earlier?" 

Nimaron's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he slowed Lintapilin slightly, "It did not seem to be of much importance, Aldandil. I will be gone for the wedding, but not for very long, and not until early winter. It should not create any problems, especially since your brother is doing so well now."

"Nim!" Aldandil smiled widely, reaching over to slap the surprised healer on the arm, "I think this is quite the event! And to think that I had to hear about it from Legolas." He laughed lightly, closing his eyes and missing the flash of a confused look that passed over Nimaron's face, "All this time you've been keeping up correspondence with her, and never a word. And now suddenly you're getting married!" 

Nimaron nearly gagged in disbelief, stealing himself to stay mildly composed. How had Prince Aldandil ever come to the conclusion that _he_ was getting married? He hadn't considered marriage for, well, for a very long time. "Aldandil," Nimaron slowed his horse to a stop, "Did Legolas tell you the bride's name?"

"Morthiniel," Aldandil answered, still smiling, "It complements your own name rather nicely, I think. She sounds like a lovely maiden, Nimaron. You really should have told us more about her." 

"Yes, perhaps I should have," Nimaron nodded slightly, "Her name is Morthiniel Thenidiell." 

"Thenid…" Aldandil mused, wondering if perhaps he had heard of the bride's father. The name sounded vacantly familiar, but he couldn't bring up any faces. And then it clicked, just as Nimaron nudged his horse into a gallop, heading back towards the Hall. 

"Nimaron Thenidion!" Aldandil called, letting Nauroch run with all the fire within him, "Your sister! Legolas never said she was your sister!" 

~*~~*~~*~

Legolas rolled over in his bed, half awake. He blinked his eyes a few times, pushed away the sheets and summer coverlet, and then crawled to the end of the bed. On the floor at the bed's foot was his surprise from Aldan, resting on its wrappings of pale green cloth. 

The Elfling slid out of bed, sitting on the floor to look at the present one last time before going to sleep. Every part of the small bow seemed perfect, from the smooth, pale limbs to the interlaced patterns of leaves and characters that gracefully covered its surface. He traced the words of a blessing with one finger, then turned the piece in his hands so that he could see his favorite part. Near the upper nock letters were carved into the wood and touched with dark lacquer so that they could be easily seen. Legolas smiled at the sight of his name, the first thing he had been taught to spell. This bow was all his, his first one, and Aldandil had promised to teach him to care for and use it. 

He laid it carefully back down, scrambling back into bed and under the covers. Usually it was so hard to stay awake, but now it was so hard to fall asleep! Tomorrow morning there would be training, and after lunch Aldan would tell him about the bow…his bow. Legolas tunneled under the covers, peering at his gift yet again. It was still there, just as perfect as before. 

~*~~*~~*~

Thilómë walked slowly with her husband towards their chambers, watching him page through the book she had retrieved from the library that afternoon. She liked the sound of Thranduil's voice as he read some of the passages aloud, liked the pictures of memories they painted in her head. 

It had been a present—the book—one of the few received soon after Legolas' birth. More gifts came later, when people were sure that they would be received happily and not with regret. The book though…the book had been given to Thranduil, so that he might write down a precious few memories of their child. Someone had remembered the book they had kept for Aldandil, and so together they had started one for Legolas as well. 

The two peered into their younger son's room, surprised to see him turned the wrong way in his bed, one arm dangling off the bed, the little fingers reaching for the new bow on the floor. 

Thranduil shook his head, smiling a little. He got his sleeping child settled back under the bedcovers, pausing to kiss the blonde head before heading back out into the hall.

 "You wrote about him sleeping in his cradle," Thilómë tapped her fingers on the cover of the book as they approached their own rooms, "All curled up and snuggled into blankets. You've always liked watching them sleep when they are little, haven't you?"

"Yes," Thranduil nodded slowly, opening the door for her, "But they get older, as you know." He slid a hand around his wife's waist as he walked her through the entry room and into the bed chamber, "But I like to watch you sleep too, and you look the same as you always have."

~*~~*~~*~

**Responses to Reviewers~*~_Thank you all for your responses…I always enjoy hearing from all of you!_**

***Lutris: I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and hope that you enjoyed the results of Nim's letter. I'm glad you like Aldandil…I think that he's one of my favorite characters to write. **

***Nikki: Legolas is reaching the point where he's able to do (and enjoy) a lot of things. Don't worry too much about Cúran…he's just got a few things to figure out. **

***Dragon-of-the-north: Hi there! What a long, long, long review this time! (My favorite kind!) **

I see the beginning of training a lot like starting school for Legolas…it's the first time he'll routinely be away from home, and there are so many new things to experience. 

I'm glad you liked Cúran…although I too would find him something of a nuisance! 

My closest sister and I always enjoyed shrieking when we were little! For some reason it is such a fun sound when you're small. 

I enjoy doing the scenes between Thranduil and Thilómë, though there aren't as many of them in this fic. I, too, am glad she stayed…it has been such fun to write and develop a character that most other writers choose to "do away with". I always wonder what kind of person other authors are thinking of when they write about Thranduil or Legolas grieving…it would be rather difficult to "kill" Thilómë now. : )

Rules always seem to be the first thing covered, as Legolas observes. I never liked rules when I was little…there were always too many. : ) 

The letter business surrounding Nimaron was predictable, but I couldn't help myself. It was such fun to turn the tables on Aldandil for once. : )

Glad that you liked the picnic bit…poor Eirien and Arasil. I'm glad you liked Rossion's handling of the dilemma, as well as him as a new character. Thank you for the comment on my characters…*blushes* …I love writing my characters, and am so happy to hear that you like them. : ) 

Thranduil's comments are such fun…I figure that if he can snap, bite, and come up with a fierce defense in other fics, he can certainly provide some smart humor in mine! 

I've enjoyed including a lot of moments between the brothers in this fic. It's given me the opportunity to explore Aldandil's character a little more, and I've found that I really do like him. Also, Legolas is working away from being coddled and towards being "mentored" in a way…and Aldandil has always (in my mind) been one to do just that…and in a casual, older sibling-ish way. : )

I found your comment on the style of this fic amusing…when I first started writing, I had planned a lot more angst and struggling…but daily life has proven to be dramatic enough! BTW, I do enjoy your "utter chaos" and "terrible things"…it all has it's place! : ) 

Also—Thank you for the review on the new Éowyn story! It did get rather cold here, and this fic was at something of a standstill. I love doing the vignettes because when they're done, _they are done_! (LOL to naughty Théodwyn…absence makes the heart grow fonder…and apparently more creative too.) 

***Nilmandra: I'm glad you found Cúran amusing—it is such fun to watch young children "help" each other. **

The "I Can" is such a big step, and entails so much. I really enjoyed your comments on that. It is so difficult to accept help sometimes…even when you can honestly use it. 

***None: I'm happy that you enjoyed Legolas' annoyance with Cúran, as well as his musing over the juice incident. Hope you enjoyed the results of Nim's letter!**

***Sperry-Dee and Charlie: I'm sure Nim would keel over if he heard your song—no girlfriends for him at this point! : ) I hope you had a nice time at Creative Writing Camp! **

***Legolas4me: I'm happy to hear that you've enjoyed my fics. Thank you for all of your lovely comments. I'm glad to hear that you're able to see Legolas' strong points…he is just a regular little kid in many ways. Thranduil has been fun to write…I can see him having quite an edge if someone throws him off in court or battle, but I also see him being much more at ease around his people and family. As for Thilómë, it's been fun to see readers respond to her. Glad you like Aldandil too…he provides a different angle on things, one that I love to explore. **

Thank you again for your comments! I hope you continue to enjoy yourself. 

***purplesmackers: Reading fanfics while on vacation! Thanks for devoting some of your time to this. : ) Glad to hear that you liked seeing Legolas branch out a bit more…he's really starting to enjoy so many of the things that being a kid is about. **

Cúran was fun to write, as was the brother moment. I hope you enjoyed Legolas' unconscious mix-up in relaying information in this chapter…a more lighthearted bit between the two, I think. : )

***Iluvien: Yes, he was a bat. : ) Those screech-y sounds are such fun to make. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter, esp. Legolas getting to play with the other kids. I'm sure he'll have several "kiddish adventures". : )**

***orion: Thanks for reviewing—I know how it is to get busy! I hope "MiniLegolas" continues to stay cute and sweet!**

***daw the minstrel: Ah, yes…Aldandil was very bad in that last chapter, but sending a little one out to get information isn't always the best approach. : ) **

I'm glad you enjoyed the Elflings. There is perhaps a little condescension on Cúran's part, but I think for the most part it's an honest desire to help. : ) 

BTW, thank you for the review on the new little Éowyn story. Writing Rohan has been a nice break when this fic gets a bit slow. 

***Lindsay: Your nice, long review for Ch. 5 did come through! There is a response to it at the end of Ch. 6. Thank you for trying over and over again to get through. : ) You're always welcome to email reviews if ff.net is feeling "hungry". **

I'm glad you like Cúran…we'll see what happens with him later. You're right, we can always use a protector, though "protectors" like Cúran can get in the way a bit!

I hope you liked the tale of Nim's "lady-friend". *g* I do like him…and he is something of a worrier and a nag, but as you said, it does make him endearing too. I see Nim as a quiet, hesitant person for the most part…but Legolas gives him so many opportunities to be a pain. 

***Dot: Just a bit smothered. *g* Cúran is indeed trying to help…and is probably feeling a bit exasperated and unwanted at this point. Poor kid. **

Glad you liked the picnic, as well as Aldandil's slight badness! It is so hard to act like a responsible adult with a younger sibling around…

***waseom: Glad to see that you're back online…those companies can be a bit of a pain at times. **

*silly grin* You must look awfully silly with all those "Good Reviewer" stickers on your forehead. *The ever-helpful Cúran stands nearby peeling stickers off a sheet and holding them out for waseom to take*

It would be too bad for Legolas to have a mean teacher…no one should have to start training (or school, for that matter) with mean one. I'm glad you approve of Rossion. 

Cúran's a little kid…and little kids are hardly ever subtle! I'm sure he'll get the message soon enough. : ) 

Hope you enjoyed Nim's letter…Aldan will have to be more careful the next time he gets info. from Legolas! 

***kaio: Glad to hear that you're enjoying this! More has finally come. : )**

***Dragon: Hi there! Glad to hear that you're still enjoying yourself. : ) Those "helpers" can be quite a pain sometimes, but Cúran was such fun to write! **

***Anyone Else: I hope you've been enjoying yourself! You are always welcome to leave a review…I love finding out what people think of my work. **

 ~*~

For those interested: If you visit my FF.net profile page, there is another little Éowyn story ("A Proud Horse on a Field of Green"), as well as a link to my Yahoo profile, where you can see a little artwork. --A


	8. Alternatives

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

Hey all! Looky, looky—an update! This has certainly taken me long enough to finish, but it is here. Much thanks to all of you who continue to read even though the updates have been few and far between lately. Responses to your reviews are below the chapter.

~*~~*~~*~

**Chapter 8~*~Alternatives**

There were not a lot of things that you could do when forced to sit cross-legged in the grass, with your hands folded neatly in your lap. You could look for pictures in the clouds floating across the sky, or try to spot birds nesting in the trees. If you were truly, truly bored, you could wiggle each laced finger in its turn, playing pretend that it was a little person. You might try to pick green blades of grass with your smallest fingers, or, as was most common, you could whisper-whisper very quietly to the person sitting next to you. 

"I have a bow now," Legolas informed Arasil in a low voice, excited to see what the other's response might be. Arasil had had a bow for ever and ever, and there was something very satisfying about knowing that they were equal now. 

"Good!" Arasil responded cheerily enough, turning his gaze from Master Rossion, who was speaking with somebody's worried Nana at the edge of the clearing, to Legolas. It was certainly about time. 

"Oh!" there was a little exclamation to Legolas' right, and he turned to see a rather beaming Cúran, "I'll teach you, Legolas!" 

Arasil sighed heavily, "You haven't even got a bow of your own yet." 

"My brother is going to teach me," Legolas smiled in spite of a small spark of irritation, "He's going to come and get me." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil walked unhurried down the hallway, his younger brother's bow in hand. The weapon had been deposited into his care soon after breakfast, with several warnings to take good care of it. The older prince smiled and shook his head, running a thumb along the pale wood of the upper limb. He had really not expected Legolas to be so taken with it. 

"That weapon is a bit small for you, is it not?" 

"Only a bit," Aldandil returned, grinning at Nimaron. He was not entirely sure if the Imladris healer meant to joke or not---it was rather hard to tell at times. He decided to humor him, "I use it to shoot very small game."

Nimaron shook his head, continuing on his way down the hall, "Be sure to bring your brother home in one piece."

"Nim," Aldandil called, causing the healer to pause and look over his shoulder, "Your sister—she is close in age to you?" 

"Incredibly so," Nimaron nodded, wondering if there was a reason for the question, "There is a space of only twelve years between us." 

"And she is getting married," Aldandil stated, leaning against the wall. The healer had gotten the better of him the evening before, but the conversation had also raised a lot of questions in his mind. Questions about timing and opportunies and…oh, for the life of him…lots of suddenly pestering little things. Questions Nimaron might just be able to answer. He tilted his head, taking in the healer's slightly impatient look, "Did you ever consider marriage yourself?"

"Once," Nimaron held up a single finger, "Why is this suddenly important to you?" 

"Does it get harder as you get older?" Aldandil responded with another question, "To commit yourself to someone?" 

Nimaron folded his arms over his chest, understanding setting in, "You've considered it yourself, haven't you? And then something happened to upset your plans, and everything suddenly became a lot more complicated. Yes, that happens. But does it get more difficult to commit yourself?" He nodded slowly, looking at the floor before meeting the younger Elf's eyes again, "Yes. Because there are more questions that arise; because it is not a simple question of fostering a relationship in love anymore. But you needn't worry yourself---the time will come if it is meant to, and I think you will know then. You did not worry about such things until yesterday evening, and you need not worry about them again until you meet someone."

Aldandil wondered how a healer who had never bound himself to anyone, who teetered on the edge of obsessive details at moments, could make sense of such a large issue...though several questions were still unanswered. He watched Nimaron smile briefly before continuing down the hall again, then straightened, "Nim?"

"Yes?" Nimaron raised an eyebrow, beginning to wonder if he would ever get to the infirmary.

"Do you still care for her?"

Nimaron sighed, glancing towards the ceiling, "Maybe. But you need not trouble yourself over that matter either." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

It was not fair. 

Legolas wriggled a bit, wishing that Arasil's grip would loosen for just half a moment. The other Elfling held him firmly by the shoulders, as Master Rossion's new game had dictated. It wasn't a very fun game. Legolas paused in his struggling to glance around a little. Everyone else was still racing about, occasionally getting caught and then wrenching themselves free. 

He was stuck. Undeniably stuck. Arasil had caught him and now he was stuck. 

He had tried running, and prying at Arasil's fingers hadn't done much good. He could stomp on Arasil's feet, or bite him…but that wasn't allowed. Legolas felt Arasil's grip loosen and pulled a shoulder forward, only to have the other child push down hard again. 

"Just let me go," Legolas whined, frustration getting the better of him. He had tried _everything. Arasil was just too strong and he was just too small. _

"I can't," Arasil sighed, a little exasperated. It wasn't his fault that Legolas couldn't get away. It had been a stupid idea to catch him in the first place, for now he was stuck holding him in place while everyone else ran about. Where was that Cúran when you needed him? If Cúran would catch him then perhaps he would lose his grip on Legolas.  "Master Rossion said no letting people go. That's the _rule_. Just wiggle your shoulders a lot and then run." 

"I tried that!" Legolas responded, struggling slightly before giving up. He was tired of this. It was a stupid game and he wanted to go home. 

"Don't cry," Arasil shook the other child a little as Legolas started to rub at his eyes, his voice thin. He really did not want Legolas to cry. He could feel his own breathing quicken as a little sniffle escaped the other Elfling. If he let Legolas go, he would break the rule; but if he didn't he would be responsible for making someone else sob. Arasil drew in a deep breath, rubbing one foot anxiously on the ground. Maybe he would just have to cry himself. 

Rossion's ears caught another sniffle, and he turned from two arguing children to see the upset pair. Whatever was going on? The game was supposed to be a rather fun way to illustrate to his students that there were simpler ways to get away than struggling furiously, and here was one of them swiping at tears and another close to them. 

"Legolas." Rossion strode over and knelt down in front of the Elfling. He had not anticipated something like this happening today. The crying was rather unnerving, but perhaps now would be a most opportune time to teach the child the alternative way to release himself, "How are you going to get away?"

"I don't know," Legolas moaned. "I can't go this way," he tried to step forward, then to the right and then left, "Or this way, or this way." Why was Master Rossion making him explain this? Why couldn't he just tell Arasil to let him go? 

Rossion nodded slowly, restraining the urge to smear away the child's tears, "Have you tried going down?" 

"Down?" Legolas wiped a hand across his face, staring at the training instructor.

"Yes, down," Rossion started to get up, "Duck down quickly and then run."

Legolas stood still for a moment, wondering how that would work, then took a quick glance at Arasil before testing Master Rossion's suggestion. Arasil's fingers slipped from his shoulders and he managed to dash away before the other Elfling could catch him again. 

"It worked!" he hopped over to Master Rossion, a little surprised. 

Rossion nodded, fishing a square of cloth from his pocket for the Elfling to wipe his eyes with, "Of course it did." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil settled himself against a large oak, his bow laid causally across his knees, the quiver nearby on the ground. A short distance away he could see his brother trying to perfect an archer's stance. The Elfling peered down at his feet, twisting them until he was satisfied that they were pointing in the correct direction. He then focused his attention on holding his small bow, glancing over his shoulder for a look of approval or otherwise. 

"Very good," Aldandil smiled absently, his fingers idly tracing a long smooth groove in the lower limb of his own bow. For the most part, the past half hour with Legolas had been delightfully rewarding. It had not taken long to affirm that Legolas already knew the different parts of the weapon; that he knew well enough from casually watching others that it had to be unstrung and wiped off after use, checked for cracks and other signs of wear. After that he had carefully watched Aldandil string both their bows, agreeing somewhat disappointedly that that task could be taught at another time. Aldandil grinned to himself, remembering what had come next. He had stood with his own bow, demonstrating the simplest stance to shoot from. Instead heaving disinterested sighs, Legolas had attempted to copy him perfectly. This might just be as fun as he had anticipated. 

~*~

"Pull harder," Aldandil knelt on the ground to better see the angle of his younger brother's arm, "The further you pull, the further an arrow will fly."

Legolas pressed his lips together, his small fingers already hurting where the bowstring was digging into them. He glanced to his brother, noting that Aldan still wore an expectant expression. The Elfling pulled a bit harder, feeling his elbows and wrists wobbling. That was not supposed to happen. "It won't go any further," he held his position, hoping that Aldan would decide it was satisfactory. 

"It will in time," Aldandil responded, critically surveying his brother's stance before getting up. His feet were placed correctly, and with practice he would learn to relax easily enough. What bothered Aldandil though was Legolas' incredibly short draw. He hadn't strung the small bow that tightly, had he?  He ruffled Legolas' hair as the Elfling relaxed his hold, "I think we've done enough for one day."

"I want to shoot arrows though!" Legolas placed himself in front of his brother, staring up into Aldan's face. 

"I haven't got your arrows with me," Aldandil held up his hands, "And my arrows would be far too big for your bow." He shouldered his own bow, putting out a hand for the child to take, "Maybe you could try them after reading with Naneth. She'll be looking for you, you know." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ 

Thilómë sat with her younger son on a bench in the sitting room, listening to him as he attempted to sound out a longer word. After a prompt he continued on, his voice slowly becoming softer and softer, and soon his small head was against her arm. 

"…and…the…the…" Legolas ran his finger under the letters, blinking in an effort to make them appear clearer. 

"I'll finish this part," Thilómë offered, dragging a throw off the back of the bench to cover her little one with, "You must have had a very big day, _glî_." It did not seem quite fair that Master Rossion and Aldandil should wear Legolas out just in time for his lessons with her. She tucked the blanket over his shoulder, "I think it might be a good idea to take a little rest as soon as we are done here." 

"Maybe," Legolas snuggled closer to his mother, waiting a moment for the little nod that meant she was listening, "I want to try my arrows though." He paused, still feeling the burning in his fingers from the bowstring, "I like it a lot, Nana, but it hurts." 

"I know," Thilómë took the little hand extended to her, placing exaggerated kisses on the pink marks. She received an irritated but amused look from her son as he wrinkled his nose at the gesture. "You will not notice the hurt as much after awhile. It is that way with a lot of things,_ glî_."

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil looked down at his younger son hurrying beside him, met with a large grin from the child. Legolas attempted to keep his small bow and five matching arrows all in one hand, his other hand surrounded by his father's strong fingers. The king had been surprised when the Elfling had begged to be taken along to his meeting in the gardens, explaining that he could practice while his father talked with an advisor in the summerhouse. 

Legolas hurried along, glad that Ada had agreed to take him to the gardens to try the arrows. Ada wouldn't be able to watch or tell him if he was doing everything correctly or not, but at least he would get a chance to practice. 

"Good afternoon, Caladir," Thranduil greeted his advisor, taking a seat across from him in the airy gazebo in one garden before turning his attention to Legolas. "I will be right here," he told the Elfling, then pointed to the small area directly in his vision, "You may practice right there, and you must stay in sight. If you like, you may aim at that tree. Only that that one." He pointed to an ancient oak, the shell of its long ago existence now covered in the vines of small flowers. There had been no life in it for quite some time now, but it still stood, a decent enough target for an Elfling. "Understand?" 

"Yes, Ada," Legolas nodded, and then hurried towards the open area of the garden, pushing the practice arrows into the ground as he had seen many training Elves do. 

After awhile Caladir caught his king grinning as he looked out the wide windows to where his little son was practicing, and turned to see for himself. He watched the Elfling repeat his careful motions a few times, occasionally pausing to examine the bark of a tree or something in the deep grass. 

Caladir's brow wrinkled as he watched the Elfling fumble to fit another arrow, "His draw is unusually short, even for a child."

Thranduil's eyes slid to his advisor for a moment before he went back to watching his son scramble to pick up the small arrows, which had not traveled very far, "Everyone's draw strengthens in time, and he only just picked up the bow today." 

"Even so, it will take a very long time with that one," Caladir commented casually, returning to the papers in front of himself to spread out a large map. He checked a paper for reference, then attempted to pinpoint a location. "He will be shooting the close targets for years most likely." 

 Thranduil drew in a deep breath, his eyes following Legolas as the Elfling strained to pull back further on the bowstring before releasing and sticking a few abused fingers into his mouth. His son---both his sons---had been so incredibly eager for this, and it would not do to tell Legolas to wait until his body strengthened further to take up the bow again. The king turned the map around in order to look at it himself, and then responded just as casually, "True, he may. But it will give him plenty of time to perfect his aim." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

RESPONSES TO REVIEWERS

***daw the minstrel: I'm glad you enjoyed the bow descriptions---the weapons used in Peter Jackson's movies are absolutely beautiful, and I wanted to throw a little of that in…something tells me Thranduil's sons wouldn't be running around with twigs and strings. *g***

***Purplesmackers: Well, the next chapter is finally, finally here. *g* I'm glad you enjoyed the last one---and happy to know that you're able to see that Legolas is very much a normal little kid. **

***Nilmandra: Glad to hear that you enjoyed all the results from Nim's letter---I couldn't pass it up. Seeing as Legolas eventually becomes quite the archer, it seemed appropriate for him to adore that new bow. *g***

***Nikki: When I was small my favorite gifts always had to be within sight from the bed. Glad you enjoy Legolas' occasional adventures. *g***

***Dragon-of-the-north: Glad you enjoyed Nim's musings on teatime and the description of the stillroom---once in awhile I like readers to be able to picture themselves in a certain spot.  **

Glad to see you caught the twist with Nimaron and Morthiniel's names. *g* Their mother was not in the best of moods when she named her daughter. 

Legolas' conversation was fun to write---I'm glad you liked it. 'Poor Aldandil' shall have to choose a better spy next time!

I'm glad you like my Thranduil as well…there is a lot going on inside his head, I think. 

I don't think Nimaron realizes how amusing he is at times, though he did have something of a moment in this chapter, I suppose. As for Nim coming home with a lovesick smile and all, it would take a lot of work…he is (unfortunately) something of a workaholic, I think. 

The bow is a big step for Legolas---as you mentioned, it is a symbol of transition, in way. 

Thank you for your wonderful review---I absolutely love getting them! Good luck with your upcoming exam!

***Nina: Glad to hear you enjoyed the chapter! Thank you for reading. *g***

***Lutris: I'm so happy you liked the results of Nim's letter. Aldandil was rather embarrassed, but now he has quite the opportunity to plague that poor healer with questions. **

***SperryDee: Elbow-biter? As in having to stick your elbow in your mouth to keep from laughing (sounds difficult!)? Glad you liked it!**

***StrangeBlaze: Hey there! Legolas' training has started somewhat…stressfully. He's managing to have an all right time though. *g***

I'm glad to hear that you enjoy the moments between Thranduil and Thilómë---there are precious few in fic-land, and I do like throwing one in every here and there. 

***Legolas4me: Well, you've seen Legolas' training begin….he will prove himself soon enough. He's having a pretty good time with that little bow. **

***Lisette: Thank you for your nice comment! Thranduil is fun, but something of a challenge to write…he can't be horribly gushy, but I didn't want to portray a completely stoic Elven-king either. *g* Glad to hear you like Aldandil too. **

***Dragon Confused: Glad to see that you realized Legolas was rather preoccupied when talking with Aldandil---relaying information about some lady is not all that interesting for a small Elfling (as related to pillow forts, of course). **

I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter---hope this one was worth the wait!

***cagedphoenix: New name! Plenty of us have got them now!**

Aldandil is taking advantage of his position as big brother…for surely Ilúvatar didn't gift his parents with that little Elfling just because He felt like it! 

***Dot: Luckily for Aldandil, he has realized that no, Nim is not marrying his own sister. Though now the young Elf is musing over who he did consider marrying….**

When I decided to write the bow bit, I decided that Legolas would be very excited about it. *g* If you've watched the Extended Version of FOTR, he seems very much in awe over that bow Celeborn and Galadriel give to him.  

***Kaiyoz: Hi there! I'm glad you found my little series! Cúran wasn't in this chapter much, but he'll be back. *g* I am a slow updater at this point, but I hope you were able to find the new chapter!**

***Elberethia: Thank you for checking out so much of my work. *beams* This fic will continue until it's finished, though I will be updating slowly due to school and all. **

Legolas had some interaction with Arasil this time around, but it wasn't exactly fun. I'm going to have to write some fun times sooner or later. 

***bratprincess: Glad you like the stories! Thanks for your review and comments---it's good to know you're reading!**

***LOTRFaith: Hey---great to hear from you again! Glad to hear that you're enjoying yourself again!**

***Anyone else—thank you for reading! Do let me know what you think once in awhile—I love to know you're out there!**

Thank you again to everyone who has read and reviewed these last few chapters—it is so very good to know that you're all still keeping up with this little story! --A


	9. Ups and Downs

**Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. **

**Author's Notes:** All right! I've finally updated! I am amazed at how many of you continue to read and review despite my extreme slowness. Responses to your wonderful reviews follow the chapter. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

**Chapter 9~*~Ups and Downs**

High summer was a good time for eating out of doors. The air was hot and excessively sticky, but the trees provided ample shade and relief. Everywhere there were excited young voices, chattering and laughter, and the smacks and slurps that were inevitable when combining small children and several sliced melons. 

Legolas reached for a piece of watermelon, licking at the red juice that dribbled over his fingers and hands. Lately there had always been pitchers of water after training, but today Rossion's wife and Cúran's mother had brought dishes of freshly sliced watermelon and cantaloupe. The fruit tasted very good after running about, and it was nice to sit under the trees while waiting to go home. 

"Mmm," Arasil swallowed, immediately lifting his slice to take another bite, "You're lucky your nana grows melons, Cúran. My nana doesn't plant anything."

"There are flowers by your windows though," Legolas turned to the dark-haired Elfling, remembering the few visits to his house, "Yellow ones."

"My ada planted those," Arasil nodded, making sure that he had bit every bit of fruit off of the dark green rind, "He says the horses like to eat them."  The Elfling suddenly raised his head, as though remembering something, "He's coming to get me today. He said he's going to take me to the archery greens this afternoon." 

Cúran hurriedly swallowed the chunk of melon he was chewing on, nodding swiftly, "Me too! My ada is bringing me!" He wiped a dribble of juice from his chin with the back of his hand, turning to Legolas, "Are you coming?"

"Why?" Legolas looked between the two other children, confused. Why was going to the big archery green so important? Maybe there was going to be a demonstration there.

"They said we can practice there, Legolas! In the afternoon when the big Elves aren't there," Arasil informed him, "You should ask your ada if you can come. We could practice together just like the older groups do. And have contests!" 

"Yes! They have targets there!" Cúran put in, remembering the brightly colored circles at the green. He had never tried to hit a target before---his father had only just agreed to let him start practicing with his cousin's outgrown bow this morning. 

Contests? Legolas nodded slowly, liking that idea. Aldan had been taking him to an open spot in the gardens every afternoon for a few weeks, and he was sure that he could beat Arasil at something by now. 

"That would be fun," he finished his piece of melon, wiping his hands on his tunic, "I'll talk to my ada." 

~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil glanced around the table set up in the gardens, glad to have the afternoon free. The recently returned ambassador who had been scheduled to address the court had cancelled, leaving the king and his councilors with little to do but go over old business. Thranduil picked up his fork, stabbing it into the mixed greens on his plate. It would be good to have a little extra time with his family.  

"Ada," Legolas picked up a slice of fresh cucumber from his plate, bending it between his fingers until it broke, "Arasil's ada is taking him to the practice fields."

Thranduil nodded, slyly pushing a sizeable slice of onion under the garnish of parsley that had decorated his plate. After all these years, the cooks still forgot that he did not appreciate their horrendously large chunks of onion. "That is nice, Legolas. I hope that they enjoy themselves."

"Cúran's ada is taking him too," Legolas continued, swallowing one half of the cucumber slice and tracing the other around the edge of his plate. 

"I thought that you said Cúran did not have a bow yet," Thilómë glanced at her younger son. 

Legolas turned his attention to his mother, "He does now, Nana. His cousin let him have his old one. And now his ada is taking him to the practice fields." He glanced between his parents, waiting for one of them to say something. The Elfling played with his remaining half slice of cucumber before finally speaking up, "Ada, do you think I could practice there?"

"Don't you like the gardens, Legolas?" Thranduil shoved another chunk of onion under the garnish, "Aldandil practiced there when he was younger, and it is much quieter."

"Yes," Legolas nodded, sucking on his lip, "But I want to practice with Arasil and Cúran. We could have contests."

"Contests?" Thranduil put down his fork. His younger son seemed to enjoy practicing, and was reasonably confident in his abilities, but a few afternoons of competition with other children could quickly change that. 

"Yes, like the big Elves," Legolas nodded excitedly, "There are targets, and we can mark our arrows and everything!"  Ada's expression didn't change, and Nana was watching him carefully. Why couldn't they understand how fun it would be? There wasn't anything wrong with having contests, was there?

Thranduil exchanged a look with his wife, seeing the concern in her eyes as well. He turned back to his younger son, "You may go to the greens once in awhile, Legolas, but I think that you should keep practicing with your brother in the gardens. There will be enough of contests when you are older. I will take you this afternoon." 

~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil fiddled with his pen, wasting fair amounts of dark walnut ink on decorating the edges of his paper. He had always had a hard time writing letters, but this one was proving to be one of the most difficult. Already the paper had an intricate border of leaves and vines, along with an occasional imperfect squirrel or rabbit, a sure sign that he had been musing for far too long. 

He had not even managed the greeting. How was one supposed to start a letter that had to include memories and suggestions and, perhaps most challenging, an apology? 

The young Elf stared at the paper for a moment before replacing his pen in the silver inkstand on his desk. In half a moment the paper was crumpled and tossed into the grate at the other side of the room, joining in its fate several other letters that had been written over the years. 

Maybe now was a good time to look for Nim. 

~*~

Thranduil sat at the edge of the archery green under the spreading boughs of a large oak, keeping an eye on his younger son. He had intended to spend the hour or so at the green checking Legolas' progress and helping the child, but the plan had quickly fallen through. It was not long before the other children arrived, and in moments his son was asking to be allowed to share a target with them. 

The king shook his head, watching as the father of one of the boys attempted to teach his son the basics of fitting, drawing, and releasing an arrow. Nearby Legolas and Arasil were taking turns at the target, and he was glad to see his son aiming carefully. 

He had not expected the children to behave and organize themselves so well. They managed to wait for the signal to retrieve their arrows, and so far there had been no apparent squabbles or arguments. 

Perhaps the green was a good place for Legolas after all. 

~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil walked slowly through the healing wards, trying to find Nimaron. One of the healing assistants had pointed him in the direction of the healers' washroom, mentioning that she had seen the Imladris Elf there a moment ago. Not being a frequent visitor to this area, Aldandil had pushed open several doors to storerooms and one to a sunroom. He sighed in relief at the sight of a long counter of wash basins and towels as he pushed open yet another door, further gladdened at the sight of Nimaron splashing his hands in one of the basins. "Nim!" Aldandil hurried into the room, "I was looking for you!" 

"Oh," Nimaron plunged his hands into the warm water again, lathering a bar of soap between them, "What is it?" 

Aldandil glanced around the washroom, surprised to see Nimaron cleaning blood off of his hands, "What were you doing?" It dawned on him that the Noldo had exchanged his usual robes for the loose tunic and pants that most healers wore when going about the somewhat messier duties of their practice. 

"Surgery," Nimaron rubbed his thumb against his knuckles, effectively getting rid of the flecks of blood there. 

"You don't…" Aldandil's brow creased, "You don't do surgery. You do…other things." 

"I prefer to do other things, but I did surgery," Nimaron responded. He toweled off his hands, heading out of the room, "Now, what did you need, Aldandil? Is your brother all right?" 

"He's fine," Aldandil trailed slowly after the healer, realizing that the dark-haired Elf seemed much more tired than usual, "Are you all right?"

"Of course," Nimaron paused a moment to give the younger Elf an annoyed look before drawing in a deep breath, "Just tired. It has been a very long day."

Aldandil continued to follow the healer, "Would you care for some cordial? I was hoping we could talk."

~*~~*~~*~

Nimaron sipped slowly from his glass, wishing that the cordial would work on his nerves a bit faster. What he really wanted to do was bathe and rest before being dragged back to the healing wards, but Thranduil's older son seemed to think that this particular beverage would dispel any and all stress or worry. 

"What is it, Aldandil?" Nimaron set his glass down, "I really do not have a lot of time." 

"Why didn't you marry her, Nim?" Aldandil stared at the healer, "I mean, if you've only ever considered marriage once, she must have been the one."

"What?" Nimaron gaped at the younger Elf, surprised that he was still pondering over such things, and that he even had the forwardness to ask. Hadn't he told him not to worry about them? He sat for a while in his chair, then finally answered slowly, "It was such a long time ago, Aldandil. She was a healer too. It is very rigorous, taxing…all of healing is. A marriage takes a lot of energy, and we agreed that it was energy that we really could not spare." He shrugged slightly, tilting his glass back and forth, "We were already training to be healers when we met; it is life-consuming work, and it was especially that way at the time. It was too late to change." 

"Oh," Aldandil responded, a hint of disbelief in his voice. From the way Nimaron rubbed his finger around the rim of the glass and stared into the pale liquid, he wasn't sure if the healer believed his own words. Perhaps it was best to change the subject. "So, it was a difficult day then?"

"You cannot imagine," Nimaron began to get up, deciding that talking with the king's son and consuming alcohol were not going to relax him at all. "Burns here and here," he brushed two hands down the front of his tunic, then gestured towards his chin before looking at his hands, "But the hands were worst. Very bad."

"What happened?" Aldandil's eyes widened at the information, "Was there a cottage fire? Was he rescuing someone?" Surely such a thing would have been mentioned in the halls or in court.  

Nimaron shook his head slowly. "Boiling water," he stated, "She was sealing peaches." He thought back to the patient for a moment, then tilted his head at the younger Elf, "You haven't told me your story, Aldandil."  

~*~~*~~*~

Legolas pulled at the collar of his tunic, wishing that the day was not quite so hot. There was precious little shade on the archery greens, and the sun was still fairly high. The grass that brushed against his ankles was coarse and dry already, while strands of his hair were limp and wet. It would be good to go home to the cool halls of the palace and have lemonade and fruit later. 

The Elfling glanced around the field, looking first at the older boys practicing, and then at Arasil and Cúran. It was Arasil's turn to shoot, and Legolas watched the other child pull an arrow back, his eyes fixed on the target placed not too far away. 

"You aren't standing right," Legolas commented after Arasil's arrow struck the outermost edge of the target. He stood as Aldan had showed him, "See? Your feet should be like this, and your back should be straight. And you should move your arm like this." 

Arasil regarded Legolas a moment, then glanced towards the target, "I don't think it matters Legolas. I mean, look at our arrows. Almost all of mine are at least in the target, and all of yours are…well…not." 

"He's right," Cúran admitted hesitantly when Legolas looked to him. His own arrows had gone every which way, but many of Arasil's had indeed touched the target, while Legolas' had fallen a good length in front of it, "Look at them." 

~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil poured himself a few more sips of cordial, dropping to sit heavily in his chair. "I don't know if I was in love or not. How are you supposed to know? When you see a pretty girl, you think…well, you think a lot of things," He shrugged, not knowing how to start, "I don't know…I knew a girl a long time ago--or it would be a long time ago for me--and I wanted to know everything about her. Is it really love when that happens, when you can actually talk with someone? I thought that maybe it was even more than that, but maybe it isn't." Aldandil paused, trying to make sense of what he was trying to say, "Do you remember at Legolas' _Sien Maethor Laer, when the girls freed the braids of the warriors? They practice a very long time for that." _

His parents had arranged for Meril to free his braids for him. He had seen her occasionally before at celebrations and feasts, and once or twice she had sat on the far end of his father's table, being the daughter of an ambassador. It did not seem quite fair to have his parents choose a girl for him--most of the other young warriors were paired with young ladies they courted, and in some cases a dear sister or cousin. To make matters worse, Meril was not the sort of girl who managed to instantly garner one's attention. He had always thought her serious and reserved and…well, uninteresting. 

It turned out, however, that in all truth she was not. She paid close attention to the steps, and when he had passed his sword to her, she had politely inquired about the lineage and craft of the weapon. It had surprised him when she listened intently to information that others found rather dull. What impressed him most, however, was that somehow she had gathered that these practices terrified him, that he had never felt more vulnerable than when his own sword was being swung on either side of his head. She had never mentioned it, instead being careful to measure her own moves in an effort to put him at ease. In time he had told her, finding her easy to speak to, and to listen to. Eventually talks with Meril got longer and longer, and more and more enjoyable. The long conversations went beyond the upcoming celebrations and banquets—something that had not happened with any other maiden before (or after, for that matter). 

And then wonderful Meril had done something that had astounded him, that had made him incredibly angry. Perhaps not angry…perhaps hurt. At the final practice she had perfected each step and swing, bringing the blade of his sword precariously close to his head multiple times. It had taken a great deal of self-restraint not to grab the weapon out of her hands, to demand that someone else take her place. When the session was over he had stalked off, upset that she would even consider such actions. He had trusted and respected her, and he found the move a mean joke at best. 

"I didn't really speak to her again after that," Aldandil shrugged, getting up, "Sometimes…sometimes I wish I would have though."  

~*~~*~~*~ 

Thilómë spread out fabric swatches over her knees, glancing from the different colors to the book of needlework beside her on the bench. The fall festivals were fast approaching, and it was more than time to prepare new garments for the dances and feasts. She paged through the book, searching for a pattern that might look fetching with a golden brown. Someone else would piece and put together the robes and gowns, but the queen would embroider them herself. 

"Hello, Thilómë," Thranduil walked in, sounding more tired than he should have. Thilómë glanced up, finding Legolas in her husband's arms. Seeing his wife rising in concern, Thranduil waved her down with his free hand, "He is just…upset." 

"What happened, _glî?" Thilómë held out her hands when Thranduil sat down, allowing her child to crawl onto her lap, "I thought you were looking forward to going with Ada."_

"I was!" Legolas moaned, looking at his mother for a moment before grabbing at the light wrap that she had worn over her dress and burying his face in it. He wiped at his runny tears with his fingers, wondering why Nana always had to ask what was wrong. He had managed to stay quiet through the end of practice and during the walk home with Ada, but Nana just sounded so _nice_ that it was hard not to cry. "I tried so hard, Nana!"

"Of course you did," Thilómë stroked her son's light hair, rocking the distressed little boy slightly. It worried her when he got upset like this, for memories of a drained child always managed to flash through her head, "Aldandil said that you are getting so, so good."

Legolas heard what his mother said, but it did not seem to matter much at the moment. He twisted around on her lap, "Arasil beat me at everything, Nana. Everything! And he doesn't even stand right. He said it doesn't matter!" 

"Oh, but it does," Thranduil reached over to wipe his son's small face with the edge of his sleeve, "It will be very important when you get older."

"He said that maybe I should be a scribe when I grow up, Ada! That's what Cúran wants to be," Legolas slid off his mother's lap to wedge himself between his parents, "I want to be an archer, Ada! Not a scribe. Not ever." 

"I know," Thranduil gathered his son up, rubbing the child's heaving back in circles. He had not really known that his son wanted to be an archer, but that was not exactly the point. The king spoke evenly, "If you truly, truly want to be an archer, Legolas, I think that you can be. Of course, you could be a councilor or an ambassador or a captain or anything you wished. " He paused, smiling at the tear-stained little face that peered up at him, "Except, I think, a scribe. Your handwriting is far too sloppy for a scribe." 

~*~~*~~*~

***Responses to Reviews***

***Dragon-of-the-north: What a long review! *big grin* I had to print it out this time, and it was going on 2 pages! I'm such a lucky author, mellon nin. **

I'm glad you enjoyed the scene between Nimaron and Aldandil—this was supposed to be a Lego-centric fic, but that is quickly changing.  Nimaron, btw, did not realize what he was saying about "small game" (I didn't even realize it!). 

It had to be the maiden with the fantastic sword moves. I just couldn't pass it up.  

As you probably noticed, unfortunate Nimaron has consigned himself to a life of single-hood. As I said, he would take a lot of prodding. A LOT. *sighs and rolls eyes towards vicinity of the healing area*  

Poor Legolas is finding that competition is not such a fun thing all the time. Arasil is not exactly the best person to go up against. 

I'm glad you approve of Rossion as a teacher—I think those who teach us when we are very young have quite a lot of influence. 

*g* Caladir is not the wisest councilor in Thranduil's court. Maybe that's why he is stuck with the task of delivering maps and reports. We shall have to assume that he has no children of his own. 

Thranduil is getting there—and I think the fact that his son is involved in several normal activities (whether he excels at them or not) is part of it. He's finally getting to *see* the potential that Legolas really does have. 

***Dragon Confused: Hey there! It seems that starting something new is almost never a breeze, which Legolas is fast finding out. Glad to hear that Thranduil has been approved "an excellent father". *g***

***daw the minstrel: I'm glad to hear that you're enjoying seeing Legolas learn, as well as his eagerness. I think Thranduil is really enjoying seeing his son get involved in the regular activities for children his age, though it has brought in several challenges as well. **

***Dot: Hi there! You are right about Nimaron learning life's lessons the hard way. He seems to have drawn several of the wrong cards. Unfortunately, our healer doesn't see much of a point in sharing his troubles with anyone. **

Poor Rossion has had much more experience with arguing children than crying ones. I can just see him having a fussy little daughter someday and having no idea how to handle her. *g*

I'm glad you enjoyed seeing Legolas' family there for him—he is a lucky Elfling. I think he's really going to need that as the differences between himself and the other children become more and more apparent. 

***LOTRFaith: It truly seems the world is out to get you more often than not, but children seem especially good at grinning and bearing it. More power to your brother. *g*  Kids *are* amazing!**

***Iluvien: I don't think Aldandil ever actually fell out of love…he is just rottenly stubborn. So far we've only seen the advantages to this (mainly in his conviction that Legolas will grow up fine), but now we get to see where else it's managed to get him. **

I couldn't pass up Thranduil's ending line: I doubt Legolas' aim would get as good as it is without an intent focus on it. 

***jakar101: Hi there! I'm not sure if Legolas will manage to grow up in this story or not...hopefully at least a little. *g* He will probably not be meeting any of the LOTR characters—at best, Gandalf could drop in to say hello. **

***None: I haven't managed to update any sooner, but that's the way it goes when you have loads of coursework. *g* I'm glad you're enjoying seeing Legolas learn, as well as Thranduil's character. **

***StrangeBlaze: I've been a bad updater as of late. *g* I agree—it is odd thinking of a crying little Legolas at times! I have a TT poster up and once in awhile I see it and think of my fanfics…and then I just think, "…no…". *g***

I'm glad you liked Thilómë's advice to Legolas. And yes, I'm sure Legolas has developed some good calluses—I doubt those Mirkwood warriors used finger-tabs!

***Nilmandra: I'm glad you like this version of Legolas. The ups and downs have been something a little different for me to write. **

After I posted the chapter, I questioned whether or not Thranduil would really be so patient. I think he could manage it if he knew a response like the one he offered would throw his councilor off better than an outburst. *g* 

***Elberethia: I'm sorry that my updates are few and far between—college keeps me pretty busy. Legolas hasn't managed to get into trouble, but he is having trouble. I can foresee at least a few confrontations in the future. **

If wedding bells are in store for Aldandil, they are a long way off. *g* Legolas' older brother (with the help of his chosen object of affection) has made something of a mess of things. 

***Legolas4me: Legolas was indeed frustrated, but he kept trying, and I think that's the important thing. He's getting there. *g***

***Lisette: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. I think Legolas will be taking full advantage of any archery practices in the future. **

***cagedphoenix: It was good to hear from you again! I'm glad to hear that you're still enjoying this story of mine. Like any archery student, Legolas' strength will increase as he practices and grows. I think his aim and technique shall be splendid by the time he reaches his full potential. *g* **

***SperryDee: Late reviews are much better than none at all! I think school has been keeping a lot of us busy. I have only ever done archery at summer camp, and even then it was with crummy plastic bows, so this is taking some imagination. *g***

***sugaricing: I'm glad that you enjoyed "Ardent Shine the Stars", and hope that you are enjoying this as well. I would love to see your stars reflected in the water photo if you can find it—I've always loved that sight. **

***Melphie: Thank you for checking out "Light"; I'm glad that you liked it. *g***

***Fahrenheit 451: Thank you for your nice comments, and for taking the time to read. **

***Anyone Else: I hope you are enjoying this little bit of fanfiction! Thank you for reading, and please drop a line or two to let me know you're out there if you get a chance. **

A **big thanks to those of you who have recently added me to your Favorites' List; it makes me feel very special indeed!**

**In other news…******

-There is a drawing of Thranduil and Thilómë on my Yahoo Profile (link from the ff.net profile—I am too cheap to post a picture there). If it's been replaced by the time you read this, drop me a note and I can email it to you. 

-If anyone is interested, I've started an Eluréd and Elurín story (consider them the first set of twins [speculatively] in Elrond's line). It is available here and at Stories of Arda. 

-My updates have been few and far between lately: **If you'd liked to be emailed when I update, let me know**. 

As always, thank you for reading! Your comments and questions are always welcome. 

--Aranel (aranels@hotmail.com)


	10. Misunderstandings

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate.  

**Author's Notes:** Well…I have finally updated again. I am currently dividing my free time between several different stories, so I apologize that updates continue to be so slow. Those of you who like embarrassingly long chapters may hop up and down right about now. If you would like to be emailed when there is an update (whether on only this story or on any story) please let me know. 

Since this story has taken a few not-so-happy turns, I've started a more light-hearted story taking place a year from this one. A _Rivendell Regatta, Mirkwood Style will stay happy for the most part, and at one point or another may contain a few sopping wet Elves. _

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there is also a fairly angst-y story centered on Nimaron (_Singing Songs_). Consider it a tale of what he did _after _his work with Legolas and his family was over. 

Thank you to everyone who has continued to read & review---I love hearing from each of you, and your comments are what manage to keep me actually posting instead of just typing nonsense into my computer. *g* Responses to your reviews follow the chapter. 

As always, comments and questions are welcome (more than welcome…)

--Aranel (aranels@hotmail.com)

~*~~*~~*~

Chapter 10~*~Misunderstandings 

It was beginning to get dark. If Aldandil glanced towards the windows—and he did occasionally—he could see the hazy lines of night starting to spread over the sun-dipped hues of the sky. It would be a beautiful evening for walking outdoors, for after such a hot day the night would be balmy, and with no visible moon the stars would be especially bright. 

Nimaron had left over an hour ago, having important things to do…things that seemed significantly more important than they had earlier in the day. Now his mother sat across from him, quiet, the evening meal recently over. 

"Come," Thilómë rose from her place near her older son, putting a hand on his shoulder, "You should have something to eat."

"I should have spoken to her," Aldandil stood up, moving only because he knew his mother would prod him until he did. 

Thilómë only nodded, leading the way out of the room. She had heard the facts of the story when Aldandil had asked to be excused from attending dinner, and it would not do to make any judgments now. When her son fell silent again she patted his shoulder slowly, continuing down the hall, "You can speak with her in a few days. Everything will be all right."

Would it? Aldandil stared at his mother for a short moment, not entirely sure why he was walking with her or how he felt about everything happening. Just as he was truly beginning to sort his feelings over Meril out, Nimaron had hesitantly informed him of something that had managed to mix him up again. 

It was her. The ambassador had cancelled because his daughter had been burned, and her name, of course, was Meril. 

~*~~*~~*~

Legolas waited impatiently as his mother braided his hair, peering around the room and picking things up off of the bathing room counter to look at. He stretched out his fingers to grasp a wooden bird whistle that had been left on the far end of the counter, trying not to move his head, which would make Nana pull. 

"Hold still, _glî," Thilómë finished weaving the silky blonde strands together, then tied the braid off. She prodded her son out into the main room, "There you go. Please go and tell Aldandil to come to breakfast."_

"Did Vanima make the bread with the raisins?" Legolas grabbed the whistle, examining it as he headed out of the room. 

Thilómë steered the Elfling towards the hallway, in a hurry to take care of her own hair before breakfast, "I do not know, Legolas. Tell your brother to come and eat." Her older son had become noticeably reserved and moody over the past few days, and she knew it was the result of the news about Meril. Hopefully a visit to the lady this afternoon would improve things. She started out into the hallway with Legolas, taking a moment to kiss her little one on the forehead, "I am going to walk to the dining hall with Ada, all right? I will see you when we get there." 

Legolas nodded, making his way to Aldandil's room. He let himself in after his brother's call of "come in", leaning into the doorway, "Nana says to come and eat breakfast."

"All right," Aldandil glanced at his younger brother for a second, then smoothed the tunic he was wearing before heading out of the room. 

Legolas walked alongside his brother, his attention on the whistle in his hands. Whoever had made it had shaped it like a cardinal, then used a reddish colored stain on the wood. "Aldan, do you think that if I practice very, very hard that I can beat Arasil?"

"Probably," Aldandil responded dully, his mind not very focused on archery or Elflings at the moment. He managed to add a little to what he had said, "Winning over someone else is not very important though. It is more important to practice so that you improve." 

"He beat me though," Legolas slid a small hand into one of his brother's, surprised when Aldan didn't immediately pick him up or at least take his hand securely, "Did your friends beat you?"

Aldandil sighed, nearly missing the door to the dining hall, "Sometimes, Legolas." He held the door open for his brother, hoping that the Elfling would easily forget about losing the contest. He drew in a deep breath, going on tiredly, "Years from now it won't even matter. I don't remember very many contests."

Legolas made his way to his chair, watching carefully as Aldandil walked around the table to his place. The contest had mattered, at least a little, and Aldan, of all people, should have known that. 

~*~~*~~*~

"Maybe we could practice after supper," Legolas followed his brother after they had been excused from the midday meal. Aldandil had announced that there would be no practice today because he had to visit someone. "It will still be light out."

Aldandil glanced back at the Elfling following him, already in a hurry to get to his visit with Meril. If it was not going to go well, he wanted it over right away, and if it was going to go well he wanted to have enough time to enjoy it. He sighed resignedly, "I really don't want to practice after supper. We will practice tomorrow, all right?" The older prince noticed his brother's crestfallen look and managed to give him a half-smile as he continued down the hall, "You'll have a nice afternoon with Naneth." 

~*~~*~~*~

"Well, _glî, what shall we do?" Thilómë smiled down at her younger son, watching as the little one wove a length of cord from the draperies over and under his fingers. It had been a few weeks since she had had more than an hour or so to spend with solely with Legolas, and that had usually been spent helping him with his reading. She had to admit that she was looking forward to this afternoon, to having a little extra time with one of her sons. _

"I don't know," Legolas untangled the cord from his fingers, getting up to sit next to his mother. He snuggled close to her side, glad when she put an arm around his shoulders, "Nana, I don't think Aldan likes me very much."

"What makes you say that, Legolas?" Thilómë stared at her younger son wide-eyed. It seemed that more things had upset Legolas in the past month than ever before, "Your brother loves you more than you can imagine _glî_. You know that." 

"I know, but I don't think he _likes me anymore, Nana. He didn't care that Arasil beat me, and he got grumpy at me," Legolas burrowed closer to his mother, "And he doesn't want to practice with me either. That is our special thing."_

Thilómë let the child crawl onto her lap, smoothing the hair that had come loose from his braid behind an ear, "Oh, dear, Legolas, it is not that Aldandil does not like you. He just got some very bad news about a friend of his, and it has made him rather upset. She got hurt, and today he went to visit with her. I think that you would get upset if something happened to one of your friends too. Your brother gets upset just like you do." She rocked her son slightly for a moment, then leaned to look at his small face, "So practice is something special that you do with Aldandil, is it? Maybe there is something special that I could do with you too, just for today."

~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil looked down at the flowers he carried. Naneth had shoved him off with the vase of bright yellow blossoms and daisies, telling him something about the importance of diplomatic relations and common kindnesses. He scrutinized the blossoms, hoping that they didn't symbolize or imply anything he might regret. Daisies…daisies were for friendship, weren't they?. Or was it innocence? If this was simply a well-wishing visit, then why hadn't Naneth come herself? Because, of course, he had been the one to express a wish to visit with Meril. Naneth had only assured him that it would be a nice thing to do. 

 "Where are you headed, Aldandil?" Nimaron hurried down the hallway, garbed again in loose cotton garments instead of his long robes.

"I," Aldandil started, noting the metal basin the healer carried, filled with linen bandage rolls and jars of healing paste, "I wished to leave these for…for Lady Meril, to wish her a fast recovery." 

"Oh," Nimaron nodded, "I am going there myself; come along."

"Would you give them to her?" Aldandil held out the vase. 

Nimaron began striding down the hallway, glancing over his shoulder at Aldandil. If the prince had regretted not speaking to the young lady earlier, he was certainly not going to bar him from visiting with her now. Besides, now that she was feeling a little better, Lady Meril was proving to be a very…_restless_ patient. "I think you ought to. I think she might appreciate it." 

~*~~*~~*~

"How are we going to do it, Nana? There are just these little pieces, and this big thing," Legolas held up a fold of the thick canvas that his mother had carried outside. How were they going to make a tent out of a bunch of wooden poles and one big piece of cloth?

"You will see," Thilómë grinned, glancing around the gardens, "First you need to choose a spot though."

A bit later Legolas sat on his mother's lap, helping her to fit and bind the poles together. She had shown him how there were symbols on each piece so that they could be matched, and slowly he could see the parts of a tent coming together. 

"Is it going to be like a war tent?" Legolas held two pieces together so that Nana could wrap a length of binding around them. He reached over to grab up the fabric part, smoothing his hand over the leaf-like pattern that the brown and green threads made. 

"Not exactly," Thilómë leaned over to pick up another tent pole, "It is a little small for that. It is more like a tent for playing outside in. Now we have to stake these into the ground, and bind the other parts of the frame to them."

Legolas watched as his mother pushed the poles into the ground, growing more exited as the whole frame took shape. It would be a little tent, just the right size for Elflings to play inside. "Nana, I can play in it, right? That is what it is for, right?"

Thilómë nodded, securing the last pole. She could remember her husband helping Aldandil put this very tent up years and years ago, and being forced to crawl through the tiny door flaps for a look inside. "Yes, Legolas, you may play in it. That is what it is for," the queen grinned, bending to grasp and unfold the canvas. There was a small gasp of delight from her son when the place for the door became apparent, and as she draped the cloth over the frame Legolas circled the tent, anxious for the moment when it would be finished. 

 "Can we have snacks inside it, Nana? And do reading in it?" Legolas helped his mother tug the cloth into place, standing back as she tied it down to some of the stakes and poles. 

"Yes, Legolas. We will go and find some juice and bread, and then we will bring our books out here, and maybe a blanket to sit on," Thilómë rose from the ground after tying the last cords into place, "You can look at the inside now."

In half a second her son had darted through the opening, and not long after she heard his excited approval, "Nana, it is just right! I would like to have it in my room!" 

~*~~*~~*~ 

Aldandil stood outside the door while Nimaron stepped inside. If they were talking, they were talking very quietly, save for a slight, strained laugh which could not have been the healer's. The older prince's gaze dropped to the vase of flowers again. Why wouldn't Nimaron just take them in? If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he did not wish to see a scalded young lady, especially if that young lady was Meril.  

"Five minutes," Nimaron held up a hand as he exited, fingers splayed. 

Aldandil found himself nudged to the door, and stepped inside, surprised at how cheerful it actually seemed. There were several vases of colorful flowers, and a bright quilt of yellow and blue covered the bed. His eyes fell for half a moment on the figure sitting there, darting back to the flowers he held. It did not seem right to look…the maiden's hands had been bandaged thickly, and her chin and lower jaw were a painful, peeling red. He realized with a shock that the loose summer nightgown she wore covered more bandages. 

"Hello," he managed, taking sudden interest in the low shelf that ran along one wall, then lifted the vase slightly, "I just brought these. That's all."

"They're so pretty," the girl's voice came tiredly, and she looked at them for a moment before regarding the prince. Aldandil had not purposely spoken to her for years, and she wondered just why he was here now, "Who are they from?"

"My mother," Aldandil responded quickly, pushing the vase onto the shelf, "I brought them. I hope you like them." 

Meril looked at him for a moment, feeling an odd tinge of disappointment in finding out that the queen had sent the flowers, though she quickly dismissed it. Why should Aldandil have decided to bring flowers for her himself? "May I see them?" 

"Umm, yes," Aldandil lifted the vase again, carrying it to the bed. He waited impatiently as the maiden inhaled the sweet scent, her pale tresses falling forward. 

"Mmm," she smiled, raising her head and allowing the young Elf to deposit the vase on the shelf, "Thank you." 

"Your welcome," Aldandil headed for the door, "I wish you a fast recovery."

He was nearly out when Meril called him back, her face holding a questioning expression. "Aldandil, do you remember me?"

"Yes, of course," he nodded, "You tried to slice my head off with my own sword." 

~*~

If she had been able to use her hands, Meril would have swatted him…or at least seriously considered it. After all these years, why did he have to bring up that one embarrassing episode? There were a hundred other things he could have said, anything from '_Oh, yes, you are that girl from Sein Maethor Laer_' to '_Why, of course, Meril, how could I ever forget?_' If Aldandil had come on a visit to wish her well, then why couldn't he simply say so and be on his way? 

_Because_, Meril reasoned with herself, _Because__ I_ caught him on his way out_. There had been a small part of herself that had forced her to ask the question, wondering terribly if there was some similar little bit of him that possibly still liked her. _

"I was not trying to slice your head off," she finally responded, staring at her bandaged hands. She could remember gripping the intricate hilt of a beautiful long sword in them and then wanting to throw that very sword on the ground with a million curses. She tentatively moved a few fingers within the bandages, wincing at the searing pain it caused. The idea of holding a sword again did not seem very appealing, for more reasons than one. 

"It certainly seemed like it," Aldandil commented, immediately regretting the cold hint that had edged its way into his voice. This did not seem like a diplomatic and kind visit anymore. Here he was getting upset with a young lady obviously in pain, instead of relieving her. He should have politely inquired about her visits to the Havens or apologized for not writing letters, but the unfortunate sword practice event had been foremost in his mind, and still was. He drew in a long breath, "What were you trying to do then?"

"Impress you!" Meril blurted, pushing back into the pillows on the bed. Now would be a very good time for Aldandil to leave. It would have been so nice to have just one pleasant talk with him, like before, but that seemed a very unlikely possibility. She sighed, regaining what composure she had, "I…I thought that you would like it…being able to know that I had practiced so carefully, that's all. I'm very tired now. Thank you for bringing the flowers. Please tell your mother that I appreciate them."

"I will," Aldandil nodded numbly, heading for the door and pulling it closed as he left, "I wish you well." Once outside he let himself sink onto a bench in the corridor, putting his head into his hands. 

Oh, Valar…she had been trying to _impress_ him. She had thought that he would _like_ it. The situation just did not seem to be getting any better for him. 

~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil stepped out of his study, pausing in the hallway to look out one of the windows. Down in the near garden was a tiny, Elfling-sized tent, and he grinned, knowing that his wife and younger son were probably inside of it at the moment. Sure enough, when he had watched for a few moments Thilómë's silver head appeared through the doorway as she crawled out on her hands and knees, quickly followed by Legolas, who still did not even have to crouch to come out. 

"Hello, Adar," Aldandil's dull voice pulled the king's attention from the window, and he turned to see his older son making his way down the hall. 

"I take it that your visit did not go very well?" Thranduil waited for his son join him near the window. The issues surrounding Lady Meril had been a topic of concern recently, though Aldandil had mentioned relatively little himself. 

"Not very well at all," Aldandil responded, continuing in the direction of his room. 

Thranduil laid a hand on his son's shoulder, "If you would like to talk about it, Aldandil…"

"Thank you, Adar, but I really don't think that would help," Aldandil paused in the corridor. Adar and Naneth got along so well, and whenever they spoke of their early days together it was with light voices and wide smiles. It was doubtful that Adar would be able to understand the complete mess he had made of things. But then, maybe after being with Naneth for so long he might have some idea of what to do, if anything… "Did…did you have any problems with Naneth after you first met her?"

"Yes," Thranduil prodded his son towards his study, somewhat relieved that his son had asked a question. Perhaps he could at least figure out what had happened and determine if there was really anything to be concerned about, "Yes, I did."

~*~~*~~*~

Thilómë slid into bed, enjoying the comfort of the cool sheets. Thankfully Legolas had not begged her to spend the night in the little tent outside. The woods and gardens might sing sweetly to the soul, but at night a soft bed shared with her husband was much more welcoming than a bedroll on the ground. 

"I believe," Thranduil poured himself a glass of water before getting into bed, then spoke to his wife between slow drinks, "That I am much more fond of you now than I was when we first met."

Thilómë propped herself up on her elbows to look at him, "I am positive that I am more fond of you." She sank back into the pillow again, pressing her fingers together, "Serious, serious Thranduil. All firm lines and power."

"Firm lines and power," Thranduil pushed his empty glass onto a table, crossing the room to join his wife. He got into bed, taking one of his wife's hands to hold. "I suppose."

Thilómë smiled to herself, enjoying the way her husband absently massaged her fingers with his own, "How was your talk with Aldandil?"

Thranduil sighed heavily, releasing his wife's hand so that he could turn and face her, "It was long. Very long."

~*~~*~~*~

Legolas snuggled deeper into his blankets, pleasant thoughts already coming to gently pull his mind towards the realm of dreams. The Elfling stretched and then curled up, his face nuzzled against a fold of his favorite blanket as he yawned. All seemed good in the world at the moment: he had his very own tent, practice at archery would make him better at it, and his brother was not upset with him. 

"Legolas?" Aldandil's voice nudged the child's mind back towards the present, "Legolas, I think that maybe we should go inside now."

"I like it here," the Elfling mumbled, rolling over a little so that his face was in his pillow. He went on tiredly, already half asleep, "Ada said I could stay here if you were with me." 

Aldandil let out a long sigh, wondering how he could possibly get a little more comfortable. The tent was only so long, and though Legolas had plenty of room, he had to lie flat on his back with his knees bent. "Legolas, wouldn't you like to sleep in your bed? I could even carry you there, and you could say goodnight to Adar and Naneth again."

"No," Legolas responded, letting out a long yawn before continuing, "I like this better than my bed. Maybe when I'm bigger I will sleep outside all…all the time."

Why had he agreed to this? Aldandil remembered this tent being sizably bigger some years ago, but he had also been sizably smaller then. He nudged his brother a little, "Legolas, I don't think I'll be able to sleep here. It's too small." 

The Elfling blinked a few times, glancing around the inside of the tent. The moon's light made shadows of trees on the sides, and the night air was refreshing. It was so nice here, but if Aldandil left then they would both have to go inside. Legolas yawned again, smiling as an idea struck him, "You can fit if you push your feet out the door." 

~*~~*~~*~

**~Responses to Reviewers~**

** *Dragon-of-the-north: Hi there! Once again I was thrilled to get one of your long and wonderful reviews…they are really something to look forward to! **

Writing about summer is nice, especially since we are starting to experience the joys of freezing rain and ice here. *g* 

The whole trip to the archery green involved so many of those typical childhood competition sorts of things: the children's excitement and disappointment, the comparisons that are undoubtedly going to be made, and the parents' worries and wishes. Of course, if Legolas and his friends had taken a moment to really look at the arrows and target, they would have figured out that several of Legolas' arrows would have hit dead-on if they had gone a little farther. 

Aldandil and Nimaron's friendship has been fun to write and the two (especially Aldandil) have certainly managed to carve out a bigger-than-anticipated place for themselves in this "Lego-centric" story. I agree…Nimaron's attempt to relax by drinking and talking with Aldan are rather futile, but I think you are right that this friendship with the prince is going to do him good. As for Nimaron romance, I think the poor healer is still fighting it even after returning to Rivendell. 

And now you've gotten to see a hint of Meril's side of the story, and the effect it has on Aldandil. There will most certainly be more. *g*

***None: I am glad you continue to enjoy the story—thank you for keeping up with it!**

***SperryDee: Athletics are very fun, I think, but can get to be rather trying once competition comes into the picture. I think that Legolas' friends did not really mean to insult him (they were merely pointing out the truth, as children will do), but they did manage to upset him a little. **

***Autore Kozoma: Hello there! I can see where it would be amusing that the other children say those things to Legolas when you remember how wonderful an archer he is when he's older. I'm sure even Arasil will found himself undeniably beat someday. *g***

***Elainor: I'm glad that you like this story, and that you feel you know the characters. If you would like to know why Legolas is the way he is strength-wise, the story is all in the earlier fics "Light of Sons" and "Ardent Shine the Stars". To make those long stories short, Tolkien mentions that Elf parents pass some of their own spirits/strength to their children as they're born and grow up, and Legolas' mother has very little to pass on to him, so he has to build up the little bit that he has (not exactly easy for a little Elfling!). **

When you ask about Thranduil's story, do you mean the story of his early relationship with his wife? *muses* That could get thrown it somewhere…

***Elberethia: Ah…Jasta's "Dark Leaf" is quite the angst-ridden story (and incredibly well written). I'm glad that you are enjoying the occasional angst-y bits of this story. Aldandil's love story is bound to give him a few headaches. **

***cagedphoenix: *guilty look* My updates are hardly ever soon, but I'm glad you enjoy them when they do come around. **

***daw the minstrel: Meril's side of the sword practice story is significantly different than Aldandil's, and it really is too bad that they have to hack through all of their misunderstandings now (if ever). **

I've always had a hard time with little kids competing…there are some who truly enjoy it no matter what the results, but I have a few little ones in my AWANA group who are about ready to cry when they repeatedly give it their best shot only to continually finish last.  

***Lutris: I'm glad that you liked Thranduil's talk with Legolas; it is nice to write him as that sort of father. And I'm glad you like Nim. *big grin***

***sugaricing: It dawned on me that you were talking about _your_ picture in your last review, not mine…I hope you enjoyed it anyway! Do let me know if you find your photo; I would still like to see it. **

***Iluvien: I'm sure that Legolas will manage to beat Arasil someday, and for now I will admit to enjoying the little bits of the story where he gets to cuddle up with Ada and Nana (though I do feel sorry for the little one). **

I'm glad your enjoying the parts with Aldandil and Nimaron…it is taking something of a turn now (Nim, at least while in Mirkwood, is a hopeless cause). Let me know what you think. *g*

***Legolas4me: I think that the other children were only pointing out the truth in the situation, in all fairness. I'm sure that Legolas' parents will continue to encourage him as he grows up. **

***LOTRFaith: Hello! I do not mind late reviews at all…it is nice to hear something during the long stretches between updates. *g* Nim could use a wife, but—alas!—he's just so horribly caught up in his work (and he is honest when he mentions that the decision was mutual…his lady-friend makes her appearance in "Singing Songs" and is just as obsessive over her tasks). **

***Krystle: I am thrilled that you've enjoyed all three of the stories! I hope that you've enjoyed the latest chapter. **

***waseom: *Cúran races back with a fresh sheet of foil sticky stars and starts bouncing on his toes as he looks around for you* Thanks for letting me know that you're still keeping up with this story. *g***

***Anyone else: Thank you for reading! If you have an extra moment or two, please let me know what you are enjoying (or not enjoying, for that matter). I adore knowing who is checking this out!**


	11. Apples and Peaches

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate. 

How long has it been? Almost three months? *looks ashamed* Sorry. The update is finally here, however. Thank you to all of you who continue to read, despite the long waits. 

Responses to reviews follow the chapter. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Chapter 11 

Legolas yawned, blinking his eyes rapidly as they focused. All around him were rumpled blankets and pillows, and the sun was shining dimly through the light green and brown fabric of his little tent. The elfling stared at the roof for awhile, discerning the shadowy shapes of tree branches and a bird flying. He rolled over, seeing that his brother was no where in sight. Where was Aldan? He wouldn't just leave, would he? Legolas sat up abruptly, relaxing again as the voices of his father and brother drifted past. He snuggled back down into the blankets, catching sight of their shadowy silhouettes on one of the tent walls. It might be nice to sleep just a little bit longer. 

~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil drew in a long breath of the early morning air, enjoying the hint of a cool breeze that pulled at loose strands of his hair. The early morning sun was overcast with heavy gray clouds, but as of yet all was still quiet in the gardens at this early hour, save for the occasional blissful song of a bird or irritated chattering of a few squirrels. There was also the almost undetectable sound of his older son letting out a long sigh as he pulled the casual robe he was wearing closer against a stronger gust of wind and the dank humidity in the air, his eyes flitting over the stretches of river and grassy banks that they could see from their position. This morning seemed to be one for more stories. 

"Your naneth was very upset when I put off our engagement…after we had known each other for a time, she had gathered that I was going to give her a very special piece of jewelry, and she had convinced herself that it was going to be a silver betrothal ring. Needless to say, it was not, and she was sorely disappointed," Thranduil threw a grin at his son, able to view the situation differently than he had so many years ago, "I did not know her as well then as I do now, and I made the mistake of telling her that I did not wish to be bound at the time. She did not take that well." 

Thilómë had given back the silver bracelet that he did give her, not even bothering to examine it closely, telling him with careful words that she did not desire to spend any more time with someone who did not need or want her. 

"She informed me that I was very rude to lead her on," Thranduil mentioned, "I had failed to tell her that I did want to be bound to her, very much so, but that I was still not ready at the time." He was quiet after that, remembering just why. 

"What did you do?" Aldandil looked intently at his father's face. This was one story that had not been told the day before. 

"I told her the truth," Thranduil smiled again, recalling how difficult it had been to apologize first when Thilómë had seemed equally at fault in the argument. A wider grin spread over his face as he remembered how things had eventually turned out, "And we made an agreement. We did exchange betrothal rings, but our engagement lasted significantly longer than most people's." The king relaxed, musing on certain happenings during the period, "It was very enjoyable that way, actually."

Aldandil sat on the grass for a long while, pondering everything that his father had said the day before and during their morning conversation. Finally he glanced at his father, "So I am going to have to apologize to her then?" He had known the answer to that question from the moment he had left Meril's room, but it would only do him good to be assured again. 

"Most definitely." 

~*~~*~~*~

Legolas stared out of one of the sitting room windows at the training fields. It looked as though Maiar were watering the whole forest like the gardeners watered the little beds of vegetables and herbs. Despite this, the oldest students were still out in the rain practicing. Their tunics were plastered on them like second skins, and they moved like dark spots amid the heavy sheets of rain. 

"I certainly hope Menaith does not keep them out there too long," Thilómë came to stand behind her younger son, looking out onto what had become a very dreary day, "Today is a quite a wet day for training. I am very glad Rossion does not hold any lessons in weather like this."

"What are we going to do today, Nana?" Legolas pressed his face closer to the window, searching for the spot where his soaking tent was still pitched. It looked like a sodden leaf on the grass, but when the Sun came out again it would dry. 

Thilómë began to walk slowly out of the room, "There is a large group in one of the upper halls preparing apples for storage." She smiled upon remembering a short glance into the hall on her departure from breakfast. The apples were being sliced to dry or cut into chunks for applesauce and jelly, and already the smell of a few inevitable treats baking had wafted from the kitchen nearby. Thilómë reached for her little son's hand, grinning, "I think you might like it."

~*~~*~~*~

A bunch of ladies cutting up apples. Legolas followed his mother, doubting Nana had been right about him liking that. It would probably be rather like watching Nim work in the stillroom – which was very boring most of the time. The elfling turned a few little wooden animals in his hands. At least he would have something to play with if it was too dull. 

~*~~*~~*~

"I am glad you are here," Nimaron sent a withering look in Aldandil's direction, obviously displeased when the younger elf entered the healing halls. 

"You don't look glad to see me," Aldandil responded, finding himself conversing with the healer in a far corner. Nimaron had never gotten upset at him like this before, and somehow it made him feel even guiltier than he had a moment ago. 

Nimaron held the basin he carried with one hand, gesturing with the other while speaking in an even tone, "Whatever you said to Meril last night upset her. I cannot have her distressed over something you did or said. It will not aid her recovery." He lowered his voice, glancing towards the hallway where Meril's room was, "If you care about her, then you will go in there and tell her that you are sorry. She is a very nice young lady, Aldandil, and I thought you liked her."

"I do," Aldandil responded haltingly, unsure of why he couldn't respond to Nimaron's comment more defensively. A healer was telling him how to handle the situation with Meril. It was hardly any of his business!

"Please do not upset her again then," Nimaron started down the hall, "She was so happy when you came yesterday."

_She was so happy when you came yesterday_. Would any other healer have told him that? Most likely not. 

But a good friend might have. 

~*~~*~~*~ 

"Ooh! Ooh! I want to put it in!" Cúran's hand wove wildly in the air, and Vanima the cook passed the elfling a small cup full of raisins to pour into the bowl placed in the middle of the table. A moment ago she had come into the hall to ask the queen whether or not she would like walnuts added to the baked apples. Now she sat at one of the benches, Prince Legolas and a friend both intent on helping her, despite her protests. 

_'I can manage,' she'd told them._

_'Oh, but we want to help you!' Cúran had already taken her hand, intent on leading her back to their table. _

_Legolas had led the way, 'Sometimes people need a lot of help, Vanima. We'll help you.'_

_'We'll be such good helpers,' Cúran had added, and Legolas had nodded emphatically, 'We're good helpers. Sometimes too good.'_

"Why do you have to take the peel off on the top?" Legolas picked up one of the cored apples from the baking pan, noting the way Vanima had cut away the rosy red skin near the top. The apple day had turned into quite an enjoyable time. Everyone had been happily singing or chatting, and everywhere there was someone ready to hand out a slice of apple to an elfling who might be wanting one. Best though, Cúran had come with his nana, so there was someone to play with. It turned out that the other elfling was a very good person to have around when you did something that needed lots of helping – like persuading Vanima that she needed a few elflings to assist her. 

Vanima spread out a towel on the table, layering walnuts and another towel on top of it, "So that the skin doesn't wrinkle. It looks prettier that way." She began to crush the nuts by drawing a wooden rolling pin back and forth over them, "Why don't you two begin brushing the white parts of those apples with the lemon juice in that yellow cup? I brought two brushes with me."

~*~~*~~*~

Meril sat in bed, her attention thinning quickly. There was absolutely nothing to do. She wanted to pound her temples in frustration, but the resulting pain in her hands would not be worth it. She wanted to pace, but it was rather difficult to get out of bed by herself. She wanted to kick something, but the bedclothes were just not hard enough to be satisfactory. 

By now she felt well enough to stay awake for most of the day, but there was nothing to do. Her injured hands made it impossible to read, embroider, or stay busy in general. Her mother and sisters had not made very good company, and there were no friends to visit with in Mirkwood. If she had to get burned like this, she should have done it in the Havens. At least there would have been a few people to peek in on her and take her mind off of the senseless burning and itching under the bandages, to sit on the bed and tell stories with. But why should it have happened at all anyway? A girl should be able to boil peaches without pouring them over herself!

The sound of a few taps on the door brought her from her thoughts, and _that _Aldandil walked into the room, looking hesitant, "Meril?"

"Hello," she glanced at him for half a moment. She wasn't sure if she was glad or upset to see him. She really didn't know how she felt about him at all. 

"I…I need to apologize," Aldandil pushed the door closed behind him, "For what I said. It was rude, and selfish, and childish."

"Somebody told you to say that," Meril looked down at her bedspread, staring at a small yellow flower. It was a perfectly pre-constructed apology, just the type to expect from someone who filed reports and wrote speeches. 

"My adar did, and Nimaron, the healer," Aldandil admitted, finding little else to tell her but the truth, "But…but I mean it, Meril. I am sorry. I…I've made a terrible mess of things." He looked at Meril carefully. The lady had not lifted her head to look at him, and he could not say that he blamed her. "I know that nothing I do now will change things, but I would like to make it up to you, if you like." 

"You don't have to," Meril responded resignedly, "I forgive you." That was probably what he wanted to hear. Such a guilty conscience when he knew he was in the wrong…the king and queen must have given him a lot of lectures on apologizing when he was an elfling. 

"You do?" Aldandil stepped further into the room, almost sitting down on the bed and then deciding he had better not. 

"Yes, I forgive you," Meril nodded, glancing at him for a moment. She could not be completely sure if he was actually sorry or if he simply could not stand to have her –or anyone- mad at him. She sighed, knowing she would have to say something to assure him, "Now we have something to laugh about. Me trying to impress you and you thinking I was trying to kill you, and then both of us not speaking for years because of something so stupid. It almost makes a good joke." 

"It would only make a good joke if we became friends again," Aldandil mused aloud before fully realizing what he was saying. 

Meril looked at him for a long while this time, a hint of judgement visible in her pale grey eyes, "Maybe we could be."

~*~~*~~*~

"I'll get you!" Legolas reached across the table with his brush, grinning as he swept a line of lemon juice across Cúran's forehead.  

"Why did you do that?" The other child automatically rubbed at the mark with his hand before suddenly brightening, "I'll get you back!" 

In half a moment both elflings were swording with the brushes, and Vanima looked over her shoulder at them, "I hope you finished brushing the apples; I don't want you spoiling my brushes when there are plenty of wooden spoons about."

"Sorry," Legolas scrambled back onto the bench, laying the brush down near Vanima's elbow. It had been fun to sword with Cúran, since he was much smaller than Aldan. 

"Yes, I'm so sorry," Cúran joined in, guiltily shoving his own brush across the table, "We can clean them." 

"Just don't do it again," Vanima said in a measured voice as she folded back the towel that had covered the walnuts. She suddenly grinned at both children, "Now we can put the walnuts in."

"It's your turn," Cúran pushed the green cup they had used for the raisins over to Legolas, then watched as Vanima stirred the ingredients together with cinnamon. Soon the cored apples had been filled, and then the three spooned sticky syrup made from maple sap over them. 

"They're going to taste so good," Legolas watched as Vanima poured water over the apples. He pointed to each apple, "One for you, and one for me, and one for my ada…"

"And one for my ada, and for my nana, and -oh!- one for Arasil," Cúran interrupted, beginning to count from the other side. He glanced up at Legolas, "Horses like apples, don't they?"

"Yes!" Legolas exclaimed, returning to the counting, "And one for the fire horse, and one for Lintapilin, and…"

~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil sat in the chair near Meril's bed, letting her paint pictures in his head. The best way to reconcile a friendship, he supposed, was to do some catching up. He had asked her of the Havens, where her ambassador father led her family, and within a few minutes he was reminded of conversations with her years ago. In lilting strokes Meril painted rolling waves and sea grass, but even more she spoke of the trees. 

"When we returned here, there were oaks and pines…birches and beeches that I knew, that I have always known," Meril continued, picturing the ceilings of shifting green leaves in her own mind, remembering the way the different barks had felt under her fingers, "I missed the peach trees though…we had them in the Havens, but there aren't any here. That's why we brought peaches with us – I wanted some to save."

Aldandil let the landscape of a tree covered hill overlooking the water slip out of his head, turning to look at Meril. 

"I decided to make preserves, to jar – for toast and desserts, you know," Meril gave him embarrassed smile, this being the first time she had made light of the story. It was easier with everything a little further away, with the healing well started. "Anyway, I was very stupid and lifted the pot without thinking, with my bare hands, and then I let go and dropped it, and it spilled all over me." She lifted up her bandaged hands for Aldandil to see, "If only I'd had all this on earlier."

"It was a mistake anyone might have made," Aldandil shrugged, not really knowing what else to say. 

"Such a waste of the peaches too," Meril mused, more to herself, "Though I don't think I should ever want to eat another."

Aldandil laughed slightly, "You should take revenge on them instead, and eat them all in retaliation. I should have a peach tree planted in the gardens for you."

"That is a very good idea," Meril leaned back into her pillows, grinning. She sobered, looking over at Aldandil, "You would really have one planted in the gardens?"

"Yes," Aldandil nodded, getting up to leave, "Yes, I would. I like peaches, and I like trees." _And_, he thought quietly as he gave Meril a tentative smile, _I think I like you_.

~*~~*~~*~

 "Ada! Come and see what we made!" Legolas grabbed for his father's hand when Thranduil came to say hello to his wife and younger son. 

"We helped Vanima to make them!" Cúran chimed in, hurrying along. 

"You can eat one," Legolas directed his ada's attention to the pans of syrupy, warm apples that Vanima had laid on top of a towel. He waited to see if his ada would agree to trying one, which would result in the cook serving an apple not only to Ada, but to Cúran and himself also. 

Thranduil tousled his son's hair, leaning over the pan to let the sweet, spicy smell fill his nose. He could remember afternoons picnicking with his wife-to-be, slicing and sharing crisp apples while they lounged on the grass. He glanced to Legolas, seeing the expectant look in the elfling's eyes, "I think I will eat one, or perhaps I will eat them all." 

"We need some for the horses though!" Legolas exclaimed, looking worried. He and Cúran had carefully counted out five apples for the five horses that they knew best. 

Baked apples for the horses? Whoever had put that idea into their heads? Thranduil shook his head, chuckling quietly to himself, "I think perhaps the horses should have plain apples." 

~*~~*~~*~

Thilómë patted the side of Namin's face, looking into the shiny brown pools that the horse had for eyes. Beside her Thranduil was feeding the horse another apple, speaking to the animal so quietly that probably only she and Namin could hear.  

"I think we shall come back later tonight, since the rain has stopped," Thranduil rubbed his hands through the horse's pale mane, occasionally stealing glances at his wife, "Rides under the stars in the gardens are not to miss."

Thilómë shot Thranduil a smile, remembering evenings years ago, riding with him on the bare back of a different horse. Pleasant memories. 

"Ada, are there any left?" Legolas hurried over, Cúran and now Arasil not far behind. Each horse in this part of the stable had probably had enough apples to coax him to jump three fences, and yet the elflings seemed to think they needed more. 

"I think they would have liked the baked ones," Legolas lifted an apple up for one the mares, straining up on his toes to see over the gate and into the stall where her foal was nestled in the clean hay. 

Arasil nodded, tossing his apple up into the air and catching it in his hands, "They're like people. They like special treats too."

~*~~*~~*~

Legolas sat with his older brother in one of the smaller dining rooms, enjoying one of the baked apples after supper. Ada, Nana, and Aldan would eat later, with lots of other grown-ups in one of the bigger halls, but it was nice to have company even if Aldan wasn't eating. The elfling picked a gooey raisin off of his plate, popping it into his mouth. "Today there was no training, so Cúran and I made these apples. Then Ada and Nana went with us to stables and we fed the horses," he watched as his brother scribbled on a sheet of paper, "What did you do today?"

"I decided to plant a peach tree," Aldandil looked up from the map of the gardens that he was working on, figuring that he could decide just where exactly to put the tree later. 

"Peaches are good," Legolas nodded approvingly, picking another raisin from his plate, "Are peach trees good for climbing?" 

"I think so," Aldandil smiled, "I think they're good for lots of things." 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

**~Responses to Reviews~**

Thank you all for taking the time to let me know when you're enjoying the story. Odd notes are below the reviews. 

***daw the minstrel:** I love writing Aldan and Legolas together – I have sisters still in grade-school, and they've provided me with lots of young adult/small child sibling inspiration. 

That Thranduil…he seems to develop a drool-inspiring effect in most 'Good Thranduil' stories…*shrugs and sighs*

***utsuri:** I am thrilled that you've enjoyed the stories so much. Never fear, it is inevitable that Legolas will get stronger, just as it is a given that I will update…eventually. *g* Thanks again!

***Lutris:** Meril and Aldan have decided to be good muses and tell their whole story from this point on. *g* And I loved camping as a kid too! (Still do…)

***Dragon-of-the-North:** Aldan and Meril are in quite a mess, but luckily Meril is not immune to self-assured young elves going sappish and apologizing and offering to plant peach trees, and Aldan is letting his usual ingenious side take over again. 

Legolas is becoming quite an individual elfling…so many things to do when you're small. 

As for Thranduil and Thilómë…perhaps someday their sappy story will get posted. *g*

***Lady Silma:** Legolas is taking full-advantage of being an elfling now, which includes occasionally sleeping in a tent too small for Aldan.

***Legolas4me:** Who couldn't love the sweet elfling? *shrugs with 'beats me' expression*

***GeneticallyElvenGriffindor:** I'm glad you like the story – I am a slow updater, but the new chapters do get posted eventually. *apologetic smile*

***LOTRFaith:** Aldandil hasn't been seriously involved with a young lady for a long time…and Meril is just so..well… *Aldan shrugs helplessly* 

***Iluvien:** Aldan being immature…I suppose he was nervous, and unsettled…and he has a problem with hiding his true thoughts at times, which works both positively and negatively. Hopefully he's improved the situation now though. 

***Elainor:** I'm glad you like Meril – she is indeed a good match for Aldan. I threw in a few Thranduil and Thilómë bits – I hope you enjoyed them. 

***Elberethia:** Aldan does deserve a hug, and Meril will probably be ready to give him one by the time she's all healed up. *Legolas carefully considers the comments about 'pre-Dark Leaf' and overwhelming opts to leave that to Jasta's Legolas* I do take it as a compliment though!

***Dragon Confused:** It is so much fun to write Legolas doing normal little elfling things and encountering normal elfling problems! I think he's been more than ready. 

Aldan is making amends, and Meril enjoys dark humor. 

***Krystie:** Legolas will probably drag Aldan out to that tent again…as an oldest, I feel the older brother's pain in being scrunched into a small space. *g*

***Samwise the Brave:** I have four younger sisters, and have been obligated to do many things…Legolas is taking advantage of having an older brother, and I don't blame him. 

***QuidditchNut:** Thank you for the wonderful review – and for reading all of those chapters! Where to start…?

Celebrían…her character is one of the things that I would definitely change if I ever get the chance to rework my stories. At the time I wrote "Ardent" she was mainly just a name…Dragon Confused's stories have had their influence on me as well, and now I feel…guilty. *smirk*

Legolas…Legolas deserves to be 'real' every once in awhile. There is a good group of writers; they just take some hunting down. (My most favorite Legolas bit of all is where he rides into Rivendell…I haven't decided why yet…)

And Thranduil…I love writing Thranduil, and I think anyone who makes an effort to write a 'good Thranduil' ends up liking him too. 

***Starlit Hope:** *little Legolas hops about explaining every detail of that little-bitty tent to you*

***farflung:** Thank you for all of the amazing reviews. It was a real treat to read all of them, and I have to thank you for taking all of that time to read and then to write so many wonderful things. I'm glad that so many parts of the story touched you, and that there were things to laugh and smile about. I think that's why a lot of us write and post when it really comes down to it…we want to share something. 

As you can see, I've finally updated…the updates do come eventually, though not always very timely. *bites lip and wonders how to improve time-management skills*


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Lord of the Rings