Disclaimer: I don't own them, and if I was making any money off of them, I'd be in the Bahamas right now. I'm not.

A/N: This is the first in a series of drabbles. The first fiive that appear were written for the Mellon Chronicles Teitho Contest: Drabbles. One of the rules for that contest let us write drabbles up to 300 words each. All of my drabbles are exactly 300 words long. After the original five drabbles, I will most likely add new ones from time to time. I hope you all enjoy my "Small Tales".

Title: Kindness Rewarded

Rating: G

*~*~*~*

Legolas sat leaning against a tree on the bank of the Forest River near his father’s palace stronghold. His eyes were closed, as the dappled sunlight filtered through the branches overhead onto his upturned face. A light breeze played with his long, blond hair.

He was not asleep, but his mind was far away. Still he did not fail to hear the small cry of pain that accompanied a soft plop near his right leg. Opening his eyes, he looked down and saw a tiny bird that had evidently fallen out of its nest.

Legolas reached out and gently picked the little bird up and held it in his cupped hands. He examined the bird and found that despite its long fall, it had not sustained any lasting physical damage.

Smiling, the elf stroked along the creature’s back with his forefinger, offering soothing words of comfort until the tiny racing heart slowed to its normal rhythm.

Legolas knew that it would now be safe to return the little bird to its nest. Making sure it was secure in his left hand, the elf climbed up into the tree, immediately spotting the nest. He arrived just after the mother bird, a red-tailed hawk, had appeared and begun her cries of despair at the absence of her newborn offspring.

Placing the tiny bird in the nest, Legolas said, "Here is your little one."

Legolas climbed down and sat back in his original place against the tree trunk.

He soon dozed off, and when he awoke, he saw the female hawk sitting near him on the ground. In her beak was a dead mouse. She walked boldly over to him and dropped the mouse in his lap and then flew up into the tree.

Legolas’s musical laughter rang out through the nearby forest.

The End

Title: Sleep

Rating: PG

*~*~*~*

Legolas watched Aragorn, as the ranger used his knife to stir herbs in a cup of steaming water set over the campfire. He was preparing a sleeping draught.

The elf had sustained a deep wound from an orc blade earlier in the day. It was bound tightly, and no blood seeped through the bandage. “I do not need to be put to sleep.”

“Of course you don’t,” Aragorn replied. However, to the elf’s consternation, he continued to stir the herbs.

“I will be perfectly fine without being drugged,” Legolas protested.

“Of course you will,” came the unconvinced reply.

Aragorn took another cup and poured the hot liquid back and forth until he deemed it cool enough to drink. With cup in hand, he knelt beside Legolas and helped the archer to sit up, supporting him with his free arm. He put the cup to the elf‘s lips. “Drink.”

“Estel, I really do not need this.”

“You need sleep to heal properly.”

“I am fully capable of going to sleep on my own.”

Ignoring the comment, Aragorn said, “Drink”.

The man was being obstinate and unreasonable, and Legolas was getting exasperated. “It is foul. I do not like it.”

“The taste hasn’t changed in all the years you’ve been drinking it.”

“Precisely.”

“If you hate it so much then stop getting yourself injured. Now drink.” This time Aragorn tilted the cup, so Legolas either had to swallow the contents or have it spill all over him.

Half way through, the elf tuned his head and made a face. “It is awful.”

“All of it.”

“I will not forgive you for this.”

“I know.”

Five minutes later, Legolas was sound asleep, and Aragorn relaxed for the first time since his friend had been wounded. All Legolas needed now to recover was sleep.

The End

Title: Doubt and Destiny

Rating: G

*~*~*~*

Legolas looked toward the figure of his friend. Aragorn stood stiffly, as several servants fussed around him, arranging his robes just so and trying to curtail the man’s unruly hair.

Finally, the ranger-at-heart could take it no longer. “Thank you, but please go,” he commanded, and the servants scurried out of the room. “I will never look any more like a king than I do at this moment. I just hope it is good enough,” he muttered.

“It is, mellon nin, it is,” came a familiar and most welcome voice from the doorway.

Aragorn looked around and saw the Prince of Mirkwood walking toward him. “Surely you have set aside your doubts by now.”

Aragorn sighed. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accomplish that.”

With a sympathetic smile, Legolas put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You may not think so, Estel, but you are every inch the king you were born to be.”

Aragorn gave his appraisal of the elf before him. “You look more like a king than I do.”

Legolas laughed. “Ah, but I am merely a prince. You, mellon nin, are about to become the ruler of a great nation.”

More seriously, Aragorn said, “Do you really believe Gondor will accept me? I am a stranger to them.”

“I have known you many years, Estel. You have the wisdom, the courage and the compassion to rule your people wisely and well. Had I not learned long ago who you really are, I would still have believed you should sit on a throne somewhere, someday.”

Aragorn laughed. “I knew I kept you around for a good reason.”

The two friends embraced and then left the room together, Legolas to join the contingent of elves gathered for the king’s coronation and Aragorn to face his destiny.

The End

Title: Guilt: Aragorn’s POV

Rating: K+

*~*~*~*

I stand on the steps and watch him. His fair features, normally so open to me, are now stony, as if chiseled out of marble. I cannot see his eyes, but I know, if I were to look into their expressive depths, I would see only pain and guilt. We have been so close for so long that I know what he is thinking. He feels responsible for the fall of the Deeping Wall and all the deaths that resulted, including Haldir's, because he didn't bring down the Uruk-hai who carried the torch.

No one blames him, not Théoden, not Gandalf, not Gimli, and certainly not me. He shot two arrows at the foul beast, hitting it with both. It was not his fault that the creature did not fall. Had it done so, another would have taken its place and another and another until the will of Saruman was done. The Wall would have been breached no matter what Legolas, or any other archer, had attempted to do. Such is the nature of war.

I was raised with elves, so I know they feel joy and sorrow, guilt and pride in a way that no other race in Arda can understand. It makes up the very fabric of their immortal being. The Firstborn carry those emotions and memories far into a future we mortals can hardly imagine.

He has to forgive himself, if he is to return to being the elf I know and love as a brother.

I can stand here and watch no longer. I must go to him and do what I can to ease his burden of guilt. I must succeed for if I don't, I will carry a guilt of my own.

I step up beside him and put my hand on his shoulder.

*~*~*~*

A/N: This drabble is connected to the next one.

Title: Guilt: Legolas's POV

Rating: K+

A/N: This chapter is connected to the previous one. It should be read first.

*~*~*~*

I stand here now and stare out over the valley that only a few hours ago held the massive army of Saruman. Has it really been only a few hours? It seems like an eternity to me. Guilt will do that to the mind of one who is truly guilty. And there is no doubt that I am guilty.

Estel yelled to me to kill the Uruk-hai, who was carrying a torch and running toward the base of the Deeping Wall. I immediately saw that it was headed for the opening that drained this fortress of Helm’s Deep. I did not know what was in the small tunnel, but if a torch was involved, it had to be potentially devastating.

When the Wall blew, flame, stone and bodies flew through the air. More bodies piled up as the foul creatures flooded the opening my negligence created, almost overwhelming us.

I am a warrior and have always been talented with a bow, so why then could I not bring down one lone Uruk-hai running toward me? I have killed countless others from far greater distances, including many in this battle alone. Why then was I not able to kill the one spawn of Saruman that mattered the most?

I have been told that no one blames me. They do not need to. I blame myself enough to more than match what others could possibly heap on me.

I came here to help the people of Rohan. Yet I might as well have been down there with those who sought to destroy us.

I hear Estel approaching. He has come to comfort me. I feel his hand on my shoulder. His very presence beside me eases my heart, so I will listen to the words I know he will say to me.

The End