AN: Set immediately after "My Brother's Keeper." Legolas is equivalent of 14 in human years. Written to celebrate the publication of my YA fantasy, Deep as a Tomb (Loose Leaves Press).  Read, review, fanfic it, whatever! Enjoy, I hope. -- daw

Chapter 3. Old Enough

Legolas forked up the last bit of venison on his plate. "Are you sure you don't want some?" he asked Jardin, who was squeezed close enough on the bench that he smelled her perfume through the luscious smell of roasting meat.

She shook her head, making her earring dance. She and her brother both wore the same clothes they'd worn in the Hall, though the road dust had been brushed off, and Hoth had pinned one of the ivory trinkets to his high collar, probably in an effort to look more dressed up. They'd obviously not been expecting to go to a feast. Of course, Legolas hadn't either, and he still couldn't believe he was here where the forest sang its night song and stars dusted the sky. He'd almost forgotten how glorious night was.

Hoth slid his plate in front of his sister. "Try the meat. It's good."

"Thank you, but I'm not hungry."

Legolas eyed the sticklike arm emerging from her sleeve. Maybe some grief kept her from eating. Did Men fade or was that only elves?

Hoth took the plate back, but his eyes were on his father leaning across a nearby table with a length of bright cloth draped across his arm. "Father is busy."

Jardin's mouth tightened. "How unexpected," she said, curling her lip.

"Mae govannen, Legolas," a girl's voice said, and he looked up to see Aerlinn, with Miriwen half hidden behind her. Miriwen looked away as soon as his eyes met hers. His face grew warm. "Will you introduce us to your friends?" Aerlinn fluttered her eyelashes at Hoth, who missed it because he was still turned to watch his father.

"These are Hoth and Jardin, the children of Merchant Camil." Legolas nodded toward where Camil was showing samples of his wares to Miriwen's parents. "These are Aerlinn and Miriwen." Did his voice sound funny when he said Miriwen's name? He caught Jardin giving him a slight smile. The heat from his face climbed all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Welcome." Aerlinn tore her gaze away from Hoth and back to Legolas, then reached for Miriwen's arm and dragged her forward. "The dancing will start soon."

Miriwen's gaze flitted to Legolas's face and darted away again. Even in the dark, he thought her cheeks looked pink.

I should say something, he thought, but his throat and even his brain seemed paralyzed.

"We look forward to it," Hoth said, and Aerlinn's face brightened.

"My naneth is calling me." Miriwen shook Aerlinn's hand off her arm and walked away. Aerlinn blew out her breath and scuttled after her, as if afraid to be on her own. Girls did that. Legolas did not know why, but getting one alone was almost impossible. Everything happened with an audience.

Music sang out across the Green, and elves flooded from behind the tables to dance. The thought popped into Legolas's head that he should go after Miriwen, but no, it would be rude to abandon Jardin and Hoth, so he couldn't. Next time, maybe. The tightness in his stomach eased.

"Prince Legolas!" Camil blocked Legolas's view of Miriwen and her family. "I didn't realize you were the king's son. My apologies."

"It's all right. You don't have to say 'prince.' Wood-elves don't say that," Legolas said.

"Well, I apologize anyway." Camil held out one of the ivory charms. "Please accept this as a gift." He dropped it onto Legolas's palm. "You can--"

"Oh good," Hoth said. "Three extra coins for us."

Legolas snapped his glance Hoth's way. What was he talking about? Camil had made a gift of the charm.

"Hoth!" Camil scowled.

"Am I mistaken? One coin for men, three for elves?"

"Don't be a child," Camil said, face reddening.

"Are you still taking mother out to dine tomorrow?" Hoth interrupted.

"You know it will be too late." Camil's brows drew down. "We'll go a different day."

"That's what I thought." Hoth crossed his arms, looking steadily at his father.

Without answering, Camil smoothed his hair, bowed to Legolas, and moved along to the next table.

Legolas twisted the charm's silver chain around his fingers. He felt like an intruder who had just spied on something intimate. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jardin pat Hoth's arm. He scanned the Green looking for something else to focus on, and found Thranduil gazing straight at him. He scowled down at his empty plate. He hadn't been out of his father's sight for far too long.

"Your father is keeping an eye on you." Hoth's voice had a bitter edge. "I assume sitting at a table isn't what you usually do at feasts."

Legolas shrugged and buried his face in his cup of watered wine.

Jardin tapped his other hand where the charm lay hidden. "You should give that to Miriwen and ask her to dance."

Legolas's stomach fluttered. He shoved the charm in his pocket. "Maybe later."

"It's easy," Hoth said. "Watch." He rose.

"Hoth." Jardin put out her hand to stop him, but he was on his way to where Miriwen and Aerlinn sat on a blanket spread under a maple. At Hoth's approach, Miriwen turned to Aerlinn, but then she look up with wide eyes as he spoke. She shook her head, but Hoth said something more, and when Aerlinn prodded her, she took the hand he offered and let him lead her into the dancing.

As Hoth tried and failed to follow the lively leaping and spinning of the elves dancing around him, lightness filled Legolas's chest. Of course, Hoth didn't know the steps. How could he? Just as Legolas began to feel sorry for him, Hoth laughed. Laughing back, Miriwen took his hands and steered him through part of the dance. The lightness evaporated. Hoth raised Miriwen's hand over her head and twirled her until she staggered against him, still laughing.

"Do you like working with your father?" Jardin's voice pierced the roar in Legolas's ears, and he turned toward her.

"Court is usually pretty tedious," he managed. "Is your father's work interesting?"

She shrugged. "It's all right." Her mouth twisted as she looked over Legolas's shoulder to where he could hear Camil offering his wares to the elves at the next table. "Lately he doesn't know when to stop though. Once my mother discovers we're all unhurt, she isn't going to be happy we didn't come home tonight."

"Legolas! What are you doing here?" Turgon's voice announced his arrival right before he slapped Legolas on the back.

Already grinning, Legolas turned to find Annael and Turgon behind them.

Turgon darted a look at where Thranduil and Ithilden sat with their heads bent close together talking. "Does your adar know you're here?" he asked in Sindarin.

"Of course. This is Jardin." Steering the talk into Common, Legolas introduced his friends.

"We're going to the Grove to see the archery," Turgon said. "Want to come?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow at Annael, who grimaced and shrugged. Legolas had no trouble interpreting the situation. Turgon had made up his mind and not being able to stop him, Annael had dithered and then given in. It took him longer these days, but so far he always did.

Hoth chose that moment to return, having left Miriwen to hurry back to Aerlinn's side. Legolas regarded him with narrowed eyes meant to send a message though he wasn't quite sure what it was. Hoth cocked his head and smiled.  "See? Easy."

Legolas introduced Hoth to Turgon and Annael, having to raise his voice over the quarrel that had broken out at the next table. "You just took it!" "I'll get you more." "That's not the point! It was mine."

Hoth and Jardin exchanged a look. "Makes you feel right at home, doesn't it?" he said.

"Elves hardly ever fight like that," Legolas protested.

"Those two argue a lot," Turgon said.

A wine cup sailed past close enough that Annael had to skip out of the way. "Not like that," he murmured.

"We were about to go watch archery," Turgon said, with his typical single-mindedness.

"If you want to see what Wood-elves can do, you should come."

"I don't think--" Hoth began.

Legolas rose. "Come on. Archery is easy." When Hoth frowned, Legolas knew he should be ashamed of himself for making his guest feel bad, but he just couldn't manage it.

Annael looked at him sideways. Slowly he smiled. "Legolas knows good archery when he sees it."

So, Legolas thought, we are going to do this. He looked to be sure his father was still absorbed in whatever Ithilden was saying, then led the way toward the path that would take them off the torchlit Green and into the starshine lighting the way through the trees. He knew the way to the Grove. Everybody did, even when they pretended not to.

The sound of cheering and laughter greeted them as they approached the place where young elves often gathered to drink and flirt more boldly than they would have done in front of their parents. Legolas silently practiced his excuse: Hoth and Jardin wanted to go, Adar. You said I should be a good host.

It was a good excuse, but he still slipped into the clearing as unobtrusively as he could.

"You're the guests," he said, gesturing for the Mannish pair to go ahead.

"I have coin," Turgon said. "I'll buy the wine." He trotted off.

Rather than the usual dancing or gaming, the elves here tonight were gathered at the clearing's other side, their backs blocking Legolas's view. He didn't need to see to know what was happening, though, because he heard the twang of a bowstring and the thwack of an arrow hitting a target. He hurried forward, searching for a gap he could use to see.

"Your turn, Eilian," someone said. "Let's see you beat that."

Legolas stumbled to a halt, then moved more carefully, keeping himself half screened from where the archers were. A few months ago, he had suggested that Eilian take him to the Grove, and Eilian had reacted as if Legolas wanted to pet a giant spider. "You go," Legolas had said. "You don't," Eilian had answered.

Legolas found a gap next to an elf with an ivory earring and a length of Camil's cloth draped around his shoulders like a shawl. He needn't have worried. With an arrow already on his string, Eilian had his gaze on a small target thirty or so yards away, not much of a distance for a Wood-elf, but archers were evidently supposed to hit not only the target, but also one of the tiny marks scattered across the target's face.

"The star," Eilian said. He raised his bow, drew, and released in one fluid motion, and the arrow punched its way into a star draw on the target's topmost edge. The audience cheered. The elf next to Legolas crowed and put his hand out to collect a coin from the one on his other side.

"See?" Legolas said to Hoth. "Wood-elves are great archers." He darted a look at Jardin before adding. "I could have hit that mark myself."

"I'm sure." Hoth snorted.

"He could have," Annael said, and Legolas felt a warm flush of gratitude for his friend's understanding and support.

"Who's that shooting?" Jardin leaned a little forward, regarding Eilian with parted lips.

"Eilian. My brother." Legolas puffed out a small breath. Mannish girls and Elf maids apparently shared some interests. He looked again at his brother whose back was being slapped by a friend whose glassy eyes suggested he was drunk. Eilian was sober enough though, or he probably wouldn't have made that shot.

Tension seeped out of Legolas's shoulder. Partly Eilian was just behaving himself because he wanted their father to let him go south again, but he genuinely was fine. Thranduil was being too fussy, as usual, babying a son who was clearly able to judge his behavior for himself.

"Here." Turgon had returned with a fan of mugs clutched in each hand. Legolas took one and sipped wine that decidedly was not mixed with water. No wonder Eilian's friend was drunk.

Eilian made way for another archer, who stepped into place and squinted at the target.

The elf next to Legolas spoke quickly to his friend, exhaling the scent of wine. "I wager the same that he misses."

"Done," his friend said.

The new archer called, "The lightning bolt." He raised his bow and drew.

"Spider!" shouted the elf next to Legolas.

The shooter's arrow flew into the trees, and with frightening speed, a dozen elves had drawn bows and were swiveling their arrows from side to side. Legolas scanned frantically in the dark, seeing nothing.

The elf next to Legolas laughed. "It was joke! And I win my bet." He elbowed the elf next to him.

Murmurs rose like a growl in the rest of the crowd. "You fool," Eilian said. "Someone could have been shot."

As Eilian turned toward the jokester, Legolas slid away, ducking so as not to catch his brother's eye. Turgon and Annael doubtless knew why he'd moved, and they slouched after him. After a moment, Jardin and Hoth came too.

"I think we've seen enough of what Wood-elves can do," Hoth said. "Let's go back to the dancing. Miriwen was teaching me just what elf maids like."

Legolas clenched his fists. For some reason, the Mannish boy was being a deliberate pain, like he had to have everyone's attention.

"Really, Hoth." Jardin frowned at her brother.

"I know something much better than dancing." Turgon glared at Hoth. "Something very Wood-elfy." With a cautious glance toward where Eilian was still hidden in a crowd, he marched off to a path on the clearing's other side.

Legolas rocked from foot to foot. How much would his excuse cover?

Jardin slipped her hand through his arm, making a warm pressure he felt right through his sleeve. "I'd like to see this Wood-elfy thing."

Legolas's heart slipped sideways in his chest. "Of course." He lifted his wine to finish it, then sniffed at the strong smell, and decided he was pushing his boundaries far enough. Jardin handed him her untouched mug, and he set them both on a rickety table before leading her after Turgon, with Annael shooing Hoth along in their wake. Behind him, a quarrel seemed to have broken out among the archers.