Elf Child

 A/N: These tales appear individually on sites elsewhere, but are being presented as a single entity to the Stories of Arda readers...enjoy.

1. Braids of Gold

“Good morning, my little one,” said the Queen of Mirkwood as she entered her son’s room and sat on the end of his bed. “Come, it is time you were out of there, I hope you have not forgotten that we are going riding after breakfast?”

“No, I remembered-- it is just that I am very tired and I do not want to go riding this morning,” said a muffled voice from beneath the covers.

“You do not want to go riding?  And you are feeling tired? How unusual. It seems some unknown malady may be affecting you, I think I had best send for the Healer, ” she replied, easily seeing through the child's attempt to hide something from her. Without warning, she quickly pulled back the covers to reveal his face, and the fact that he was already fully dressed for riding.

Then she noticed his hair. His golden blonde locks had somehow become a matted mess. “What happened to your hair?” she asked. Legolas could not look her in the eye as he mumbled something she did not quite hear.

“What did you say?” She asked sternly, quickly losing patience with the child’s evasiveness.

“Nothing,” he replied morosely. The Queen ignored the obvious lie, for she could see that her son was both upset and embarrassed. Her mood softened in response to Legolas’s distress and she calmly walked over to the dresser and picked up his hairbrush from the dresser. Sitting on the stool in front of it, she then beckoned for her son to sit beside her. It was with great reluctance that he obeyed, for he hated having his hair brushed, even by his beloved Naneth.

“Legolas, will you please sit still?” asked the Queen of Mirkwood for the third time in as many minutes. She was attempting to brush the knots out of his hair, a difficult task made more so by his unwillingness to stop squirming. “I have never seen your hair in such an unruly state, are you sure that you did not let one of the birds make a nest in it last night?”

“Ouch! No I did not,” he replied, not really sure if he wanted to tell her how his hair came to be such a mess. No matter how gentle she tried to be, some of the more stubborn knots pulled, almost bringing tears to his eyes. Finally the ‘torture’ was over and the brush ran smoothly through the straightened locks of golden silk.

“That is much better,“ said the Queen, admiring her handiwork, not to mention the fair features of her child. To her mind, Legolas was not just handsome, like his father, but his inner beauty was reflected in his face, even more so than is usual for an Elf.

“Yes, but I think you must have pulled most of my hair out,” he complained, checking in the mirror to see if he had suddenly become bald. The Queen laughed and drew him into a hug.

“Do not be so silly. Will you please tell me what happened? I can feel you are troubled by something. Surely there is nothing you can not tell your Naneth?”  Not wanting to hurt her feelings, Legolas quickly explained.

“I was trying to put braids in my hair, but I kept getting it wrong,” he admitted, relieved that he was now telling the truth.

“Oh, I see. I suppose that although it is many years hence before you will begin archery lessons, and thus need to wear them, you must learn how to do it right now?” she teased lightly.

“It is not that many years away!” he protested loudly. “Then I will be able to hunt spiders and Orcs as well, and defend Adar’s realm!”

“All in good time” she said, in no hurry to see him become involved in the war with the evil that was slowly invading Mirkwood. The thought of the day when he would kill his first living thing broke her heart.

“However, since you obviously intend to keep practicing and I certainly do not want to have to disentangle your hair every morning, I will teach you how to braid your hair properly.”  Her words earned her a brilliant smile and an exuberant hug, both of which she happily returned. “Sit back down on the stool so that you can watch in the mirror,” she instructed. Legolas quickly obeyed and watched in fascination as his mother deftly plaited his hair in the style of warriors.

“Now you do my hair like that,” she said as she sat down beside him. “You will find it is much easier to plait another’s hair than your own. Just ask your Adar, he sometimes lets me braid his hair,” she said with softness in her voice that Legolas had not heard before and his eyes widened with surprise, wondering why Thranduil would still need help, after all, he had been a warrior forever!

Eager, yet gentle young hands collected the soft, golden strands of hair so much like his own and after many failed attempts, he finally mastered the technique. Full of confidence, he proceeded to undo the braids in his own hair and brushed it into smoothness and attempted to plait his own hair again, this time with much more success. He smiled radiantly as he admired his accomplishment in the mirror.

“Look, Nana I can do it!” he said proudly as he threw his arms about her neck and squeezed tightly.

“Yes, and very neatly done,” she responded encouragingly. “You will make a very fine looking archer one day,” she said, placing a kiss on each of his braids, and then on his forehead, promising herself she would protect his innocence as long as she could. Legolas kissed her cheek and then said with an eager smile,

 “Nana, I think I would like a riding lesson this morning, after all.”

2. The Rescue

The Forest River meandered lazily through Mirkwood, on its journey from its source in Ered Mithrin to the Long Lake. The clear, clean water carved a pathway through the trees of the Woodland King's realm, even passing under his Hall at one point. The Wood elves were possessed of elegant barges that they used to transport goods to and from Lake Town, for although Thranduil had a strict policy in regards to dealings with Men; he chose to make an exception in this case.

Legolas was sometimes permitted to travel with the Elves as they floated their cargo to the markets, but he was never allowed to steer or help with the poles that were used to propel the barges through the water. Whilst the current of the Forest River was not particularly strong, it was deemed too dangerous for the one as young as the Prince to manage alone. It was a constant source of frustration for him, because he knew that he could do it, if only he was given the chance.

Early one morning, the temptation to prove to everyone, especially Ada, that he was capable of floating a barge on his own, became too great. The first light of dawn saw the Legolas sneaking out of the palace and making his way to the wharf where the barges were docked. Sunlight sparkled off the water as he untied one of the smaller ones and pushed it carefully away from the shore. With a confident leap, he landed lightly on it and picked up the pole. Pushing the weight of the barge with the pole was more difficult than he realised and it was not long before the muscles in his small arms began to ache. He put the barge pole down and settled himself against the empty barrels that were on the deck and despite his efforts to keep awake, he was soon lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking motion of the barge as it floated down the river.

A sudden jolt woke him a short time later as the barge collided heavily with a partially submerged branch. As he reached for the pole, which he intended to use to push the branch away, he was thrown off balance as one of the barrels, which had been jarred loose rolled across the deck, hitting his legs. Unable to find a handhold to steady himself, he fell forwards over the edge and into the water. Fortunately, Thranduil had taught him to swim last summer, and he managed to reach the far bank without much trouble. A very wet young elf sat on the soft grass, feeling very sorry for himself and very afraid of what Ada would say about the loss of the barge, which had already disappeared down the river. Looking about, he realised that he had no idea where he was; there was nothing familiar about this part of the forest. The knowledge that he was lost as well was more than he could bear, and his eyes filled with tears.

Meanwhile, back at Mirkwood, the palace was in an uproar. Thranduil had gone to his son's room, concerned that the child had missed breakfast. Legolas was not there, and at first Thranduil thought his son was playing one of his pranks. He did not approve of the mischievous nature the elfling was exhibiting lately and he vowed to have a very stern talk with him, as soon as he could be found. After all his usual hiding places had been checked, to no avail, the King began to worry. He had no idea where Legolas could be, and was just about to send a search party into the forest when he was informed that the young elf had been seen down at the wharf and that one of the barges was missing. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he sent several of his boatmen out onto the river, to search for his errant son. As the day lengthened, his anger turned to fear, as there was no sign of Legolas. When the barge that he had taken was finally found grounded on the riverbank several leagues downstream, Thranduil insisted on taking part in the search, hoping that Legolas was safe and well. He would not countenance the thought that he may have drowned, he was certain in his heart that his son was simply stranded somewhere.

As day turned to night, Legolas grew more afraid, he did not like being in these strange woods, it felt as if the trees were very unfriendly and laughing at his misfortune. He wanted Ada. The thought occurred to him that if he climbed one of the trees that grew close to the bank and scanned the horizon, he would be sure to see the search party that would be sent to look for him. A smile lit his fair features as he saw movement on the river, way upstream. Although he found it difficult to see very far in the twilight, he would recognise that golden haired Elf anywhere. Ada was coming to his rescue! Relieved, he leapt down from the tree and took off his jerkin and began waving it wildly, calling for help.

The sound of the sweet young voice floated on the breeze, reaching the ears of the King, who breathed a sigh of relief, his Legolas was safe. As his barge pulled into the bank, Legolas flung himself into his father's arms, apologising profusely for disobeying the rule about taking a barge out alone, and for having lost said barge. Thranduil did not hide his anger, but held his son close, as relief washed over him at the happy outcome. Taking off his cloak, he wrapped the small, wet bundle that was his son in it, and they boarded the barge and returned to Mirkwood, but not before Legolas had solemnly promised that there would be no repeat of this incident. Thranduil accepted the promise, but he did not fail to notice the look of mischief in his son's eyes.

3. Bows and Arrows

The Woodland Elves of Mirkwood were renowned for their prowess at archery, and the annual tournament held there was an event that every Elf was eager to win. This year the event was to include, for the first time, a contest for the elf lings that the Archery Master deemed had sufficient skill to compete. It was no secret that their young Prince had shown exceptional talent as an archer and King Thranduil had been heard on several occasions to say that he thought his son would win.

The young Prince was supposed to be in bed, awaiting his nightly bedtime story, but Legolas was so excited about the contest that he could not sleep. He could think of nothing but winning the beautiful new bow that was the first prize, and the fact that he would make Ada very proud if he won.

Thranduil stomped noisily through the hallway as he approached his son’s bedchamber. A game of hide and seek was a part of their nightly ritual and he always made sure Legolas could hear his approach.

“That young elf had better be in bed when I get there!” he said in a voice loud enough for Legolas to hear. He smiled when he heard a muffled giggle and the thump of the wardrobe door closing.  The King entered the bedchamber and made a great show of discovering his son missing. “What, no Legolas?” he said patting the covers of the empty bed, trying hard to keep a look of concern, rather than amusement, on his face.

“I wonder where he can be? I did not pass him in the hallway just now.  Hmmm, I think I had better look for him.” He searched under the bed, on the balcony and even in the tree outside the bedroom window, deliberately avoiding the wardrobe.

Legolas had the door open just enough to allow him to watch and he had to place his small hand over his mouth to stifle the giggles that resulted from his Ada’s unsuccessful efforts to find him.

“I do believe I am going to have to send out a search party, I hope he has not been kidnapped by Orcs.” He said with mock fear. “It will be a shame if he is not to be found, ” he continued with a subtle look towards the wardrobe, “for I had such hopes that he would win the archery contest.”

Even elf-lings possess the speed of movement of their race and before he knew it there was a small blonde-headed elf jumping onto his lap, looking up at him with wide-eyed innocence and love.

“Here I am Ada.”

Thranduil laughed as he gently removed the small arms from around his neck that were threatening to choke him, and settled his son beneath the covers. He cherished moments such as these.

“So you are. I am glad, for if you had vanished, one of your friends would win that beautiful bow.” He teased lightly.

“Oh no they will not!” he protested. “I am sure it was made for me, it has green leaves carved all over it.”

“That may be so, but for now I think that a nice quiet story and a good night’s sleep is what you require.” Opening the book that was on the table next to the bed, the King began reading the story they had not finished the night before. It was not long before Legolas’ eyes took on the glazed look of an elf who was walking in the waking dream that is called sleep. Thranduil tucked the covers about his son and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

“Sleep well, my son.”

                                            ******

The day of the tournament finally arrived, much to the relief of the parents of the elf lings who were to compete. Thranduil had not been the only one who had to try and contain a very excited child. He was also pleased to see that there were several other talented archers in Legolas’ class; they would be needed in later years to help in the war with the Shadow. Dismissing such dark thoughts for the moment, he concentrated on watching the contest. Only Legolas and one other young elf had not missed a single shot and the Archery Master had set ten more difficult targets amongst the trees. The other young elf shot first and scored a perfect round, and everyone watched as the young Prince stepped forward for his attempt. His first nine shots were perfect and there was a hushed silence as he took aim for his last shot.

He had barely released his arrow when a bird landed on his target, and with elven swiftness and a skill well beyond his years, he moved his bow slightly, deliberately deflecting the arrow. It missed the target, and the bird.  He could not keep the tears from welling in his eyes, for he had lost the contest, and the beautiful bow. He felt Ada approach and pull him into a hug,

“I am so proud of you, Legolas. Such an unselfish act to sacrifice the contest to save a life.” Legolas tried to smile, and looked around, surprised to see that everyone was cheering and applauding his act of kindness.

The winner was also cheered and congratulated and after the Archery Master presented him with his prize, he came over to speak with Legolas.

“That was an extremely skilled shot, one I doubt that even I could have made.” He said, truly impressed with Legolas’ talent.

“Thank you. My lord” he responded quietly, “I could not allow the bird to be killed by my arrow.”

“If it is any comfort, I think that one day you will be considered the finest archer in all of Mirkwood.” Legolas nodded glumly and did not notice that Thranduil was having a few private words with the Master.

When Legolas awoke the next morning, he was amazed to find a brand new bow on the end of his bed, decorated with a beautiful bird surrounded by green leaves.

4. King For A Day

“It is not fair! Ada you promised we could go hunting today!”  Legolas shouted as he stood before Thranduil’s throne and stomped his foot in anger.

All those present in the King’s audience chamber suddenly found themselves fascinated by the ancient tapestries that decorated the walls, the exquisite pattern in the floor tiling or indeed anything that drew attention from the confrontation now occurring.  Thranduil sighed, this was not the first time he had to cancel his plans with Legolas in favour of important business. This was also not the first temper tantrum everyone had witnessed, and though his son was still a very young elf, it was behaviour not to be tolerated.

“Legolas, try to control your temper and do not speak to me in that tone of voice. I am very sorry that I can not go hunting with you today, but as I have told you before, the duties of King must sometimes come first.” He had no intention of giving a further explanation; the young elf did not need to hear that spiders had taken two elves who had been patrolling the Woods near the Elf Path.

His eyes shone brilliantly with the tears he was desperately trying to stop from falling, but he managed to glare at his Ada.

“You always say that! If I were King, I would do as I pleased. I would go hunting with my son and play games and get someone else to take care of my ‘important’ business!”  The angry words came out in a rush and Legolas was proud of the way he had told Ada off.

“Is that so?” Thranduil asked, quietly amused by the innocence and naivety in the tirade, but at the same time trying to look serious. He could see that Legolas was very upset, and he really hated to disappoint him. “Well, since you think it is all fun and games to be King, I hereby proclaim that Prince Legolas Greenleaf is to be King for a day.” 

Legolas was astounded as Thranduil stepped down from the throne and lifted him into the seat that was several sizes too large for one so small. The Elves who remained in the audience chamber bowed respectfully as a hastily fashioned a crown of the summer flowers, which were in bloom, was placed on the ‘new’ King’s head.

“The court of King Legolas is now in session,” Thranduil announced. It filled his heart with joy to see the radiant look on his son’s fair face. “What is your command, Your Majesty?”  Legolas thought for a moment, trying to remember what the King usually did.

“I will hear petitions until the noon meal, then I will take Ada hunting!” He decreed happily.

Thranduil rolled his eyes but said nothing. In the spirit of co-operation and for the love of the young Prince, all the petitions were of a simple nature and everyone was surprised with the sense of responsibility he had suddenly developed. Thranduil still had the important issue regarding the attack by the spiders to deal with, and he also had to try and comfort the parents of the ones they had lost this day. He left the audience chamber unnoticed by all except his Steward, who with a silent nod undertook to keep a subtle watch over King Legolas.

Legolas quickly became bored with listening to petitions, what did he care if someone wanted to try a new kind of grain in the next planting or that a new source of wine had been found. He looked to Ada’s steward who nodded, indicating which petitions were to be granted. He was glad when the bell finally rang for the noon meal, and happily sat in Thranduil’s usual place at the head of the table, enjoying the attention he was receiving immensely. Quickly finishing his meal, he ran to his room and strapped on his quiver, picked up his bow and went to find Ada; it was time to attend to the important business of hunting!

Thranduil was speaking to the parents of one of the fallen Elves, and did not hear Legolas approach.

“I have no words to comfort you,” he heard Ada say, “We all share your grief. Though your son now resides in the Halls of Mandos, he will always be remembered for his bravery.”

 So this was the important business that prevented the hunting trip, Legolas thought to himself. He was shocked for he knew that only an Elf who was slain went to the Halls of Mandos.

 As a single tear traced the outline of Thranduil’s elegant nose, a sign of the pain and grief he felt for the loss of a precious life, he felt a small hand slip into his. Looking down into the concerned eyes of his son, he heard a small but kingly voice say,

“Do not cry, Ada. Hunting is not really important, we can go another day.”