The History of Legolas - The Last Green Leaf

Author’s Note: First off, The Lord of the Rings and all associated characters belong to Tolkien and his estate. I am not making any profit off of this story, save the enjoyment I had making it.
Secondly, I really apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Between New Year's and moving back to school, things have been pretty hectic (plus the fact that I was without internet for three days over New Year's. Bah!). I promise I won't be as late with the next chapter. :3



Legolas would have liked to think that today was a bright and sunny day, but he wouldn’t have known. He was cooped up inside, again, as his father had forbidden him from leaving the caves under penalty of being confined to his room for everything except meals and lessons for a week. So, to amuse himself, Legolas was sitting in his room, reading some of the scrolls he had smuggled out of the library. Thranduil had told the little elfling that he was to read the scrolls in the library, but if Legolas were to do that, he’d be in the library all day. And as much as he loved it there, he liked reading on his bed better.

The youngest son of Thranduil sighed and rolled over on his bed. Reading was only interesting as long as he didn’t have previous knowledge of what he was studying. Alas, when he had picked out these scrolls, he wasn’t interested in what they contained. Rather, he was interested in grabbing what was in sight and escaping without being caught. And what he had taken were scrolls that discussed, in great detail, the establishment of Greenwood the Great. He had read these scrolls many times and knew them inside out.

Frustrated and bored, Legolas leapt from his bed and out into the hallway of his home. As he was passing his brother Hérion’s room, he looked in the open door to see Hérion fastening wrist guards to his arms. Legolas immediately stopped and knocked on the door. Hérion looked up.

“Hello, little brother.” He said with a smile. Legolas walked in and sat on the wooden chest at the end of his brother’s bed and watched Hérion as he fastened his archer’s gear to his body.

“Where are you going?” Legolas asked, innocently kicking his legs in the air.

“Out to practice with Gwendir,” Hérion said as he slipped his quiver over his shoulder.

“May I come?” his younger brother asked. Hérion chuckled.

“No, Legolas. You do not know how to shoot a bow.” He said.

“I just want to watch,” Legolas mentioned, “and I’ll stay out of your way, I promise!”

“Legolas, Ada will never let me take you outside to watch me practice archery. I would love to take you, if he would let you go.” Hérion sighed, picking his bow up off of his bed.

“You could take me and Ada would never have to know!” Legolas said, a plot hatching in his youthful mind. Hérion laughed.

“And what would you tell him when he came looking for you here and you were gone?”

“I would tell him that I was in the library!”

“He always looks for you there, little brother.”

Legolas looked especially frustrated as he crossed his arms and frowned and mumbled something about the unfairness of the situation. Hérion smiled and patted his brother on the head as he walked towards the door.

“You should go find some elflings your age to play with and enjoy the day.” Hérion said, turning and giving Legolas a reassuring look just before he left. He waved at his little brother and then walked down the hall.

“All of the other elflings my age are at archery lessons.” Legolas sighed as his shoulders sagged.

He was going to go mad if he had to spend one more day alone studying.

~

The conversation at the dinner table had subsided and the quiet clinking of dishes cutting pheasant with knives and forks and glasses being picked up and set back down echoed throughout the dining hall. Legolas, deciding that there was no time like the present, put down his eating utensils and looked at his father.

“Ada, I’d like to begin archery lessons.” He said bluntly. Arthion and Hérion stared at their father, who coughed on his drink, caught off guard by his youngest’ request.

“Why do you want to start archery, Legolas?” Thranduil asked.

“Because then I can join the archery class in the afternoon.” Legolas replied.

“My son, they are already five years ahead of you. Elflings start taking archery on their fifteenth year.” The king said. Legolas’ disappointment was evident as he stared at his feet and let his shoulders sag.

“But I am so lonely during the day, and I cannot join Arthion or Hérion when they go practice because you do not let me! And I cannot go play with my friends because they are in the archery class!” The elfling said sadly.

Arthion, seeing an opportunity to, in a way, force his father to let Legolas learn, piped into the conversation.

“I can get him caught up, Ada.”

Thranduil shot his oldest son a look that seemed to scream, “keep quiet!” but he did not comply.

“He has to learn sometime. And he cannot join the class if he is so far behind. I’d be happy to teach him what he needs to know.”

Thranduil looked over to Legolas, whose eyes were pleading with him. The king did not want to say no, but he also did not want to let Legolas learn how to use a bow and arrow. If he knew how to use weapons, he would be able to go outside unaccompanied into the forest. This would have been no problem, if the giant spiders had stayed to the south like the Orcs had. He would not risk loosing Legolas.

“We’ll discuss it later.” Thranduil sighed.

Legolas found this solution a good one and went back to happily munching on his dinner. A postponement of the discussion was better than a complete halt, anyway. Arthion, on the other hand, knew that this was just his father’s way of hoping that the situation would go away. Arthion knew that Thranduil did not want Legolas learning archery, and he thoroughly disapproved. He knew that his mother would have wanted Legolas to grow up as a normal elfling, not a sheltered prince.

Arthion gave his father an angry look and continued on with his meal, planning on making sure that the matter was discussed again.

~

Later that night, Legolas was back in his room, sitting on his bed, awaiting his father to come and tuck him into bed for the night. He had just finished putting on his sleeping clothes and climbing under the covers when he heard voices outside his door.

“He will grow up sometime, Ada.” The first voice said. Legolas identified it as Arthion’s.

“I know that, Arthion.” The second said in an annoyed tone. The eavesdropping elfling knew it to be his father’s.

“He will then be old enough to leave these halls without your permission. If he does not know how to defend himself something evil will surely befall him. He needs to learn how to keep himself safe.” Arthion said.

“He is too young.” Thranduil replied in a stern voice.

“And I was not?” Legolas’ older brother shot back.

“Things were different then!” Thranduil shouted. Legolas jumped in his bed, startled by his father’s angry tone.

“You were different then!” Arthion said defiantly.

There were a few moments of silence. Legolas desperately wanted to go peek through his door, but he did not want his father and brother knowing that he was listening in on their conversation. He could only imagine the stony glares his loved ones were exchanging just outside his room. Anxiously, the little prince bit his lower lip and waited for the tension to break.

“Arthion, the forest is dangerous, I will not have Legolas traipsing about - ” Thranduil began, but his eldest son broke in.

“Do not punish Legolas for the death of Naneth.” Arthion said quietly. More silence.

Legolas was puzzled. Why would his father punish him for something he did not do? Didn’t Thranduil say that it was not Legolas’ fault that his mother died? The twenty-year-old elfling’s brow furrowed as he sat pensively, wondering what his brother could be talking about.

Outside his door, Legolas’ father stared angrily at his eldest son. He was furious at the insolence Arthion had shown, but at the same time he was enraged that his son had been able to pinpoint exactly why he sheltered Legolas; he was afraid to loose him. Unable to provide a sufficient excuse, Thranduil only glared at his eldest.

Arthion, on the other hand, looked at his father with compassion and sympathy in his eyes. He too, was protective of his youngest brother, but in a different way than Thranduil. He wanted Legolas to experience the life that his mother would never know, and he would never experience it while cooped up inside the walls of their home. While his father was still brooding over a response, Arthion sighed and walked past Thranduil, going to his own room.

“Good night, Ada.” He said quietly.

Thranduil did not turn, nor did he reply. He stood outside Legolas’ door, starting angrily at the place where Arthion had been standing just as if he were still there. A storm raged in his eyes as he thought about his son’s words and how true they were. With an aggravated sigh, he turned towards Legolas’ door and reached for the handle.

Legolas threw himself down on the bed when he heard the door click, signaling his father’s entrance. The little prince tried to appear as if he had been reading some scrolls instead of eavesdropping, but he feared that his father might have noticed his flustered look.

“Is my little green leaf ready for bed?” Thranduil asked, sitting on the edge of Legolas’ bed. Legolas nodded enthusiastically, setting the scrolls down.

“Yes, Ada.” He said. Thranduil smiled and patted his son on the shoulder.

“So, you would like to begin archery?” the king asked. Legolas’ eyes lit up and he nodded even more enthusiastically than he had before.

“Yes! I would like to very, very much!” the little elfling replied, a bright smile on his face.

“It is a dangerous sport. I do not want you to get hurt,” Thranduil said.

“I will promise to be very careful,” Legolas said, fearing that his father might decide not to let him learn after all. Thranduil nodded and looked away from his son, appearing to be deep in thought. His son’s hopes fell as the seconds ticked away. His chances did not look good. Just as Legolas was beginning to think of new promises to make to his father to convince him of his security, Thranduil sighed and turned back to face his son.

“I think that you would make a fine archer, Legolas.”

Legolas’ eyes lit up again and he lunged at his father, hugging him with all of the strength in his little body.

“Thank you, Ada! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He exclaimed.

Thranduil laughed and returned his son’s embrace, a little startled at Legolas’ sudden leap. After a moment, he pulled Legolas away and set him back under the sheets and looked him straight in the eye.

“Now, you must promise me that you will follow Arthion’s every instruction and that you will under no circumstances go out to practice on your own, do you understand?” Thranduil asked. Legolas nodded.

“Yes Ada.” He said, smiling in assurance. “Thank you!” He said again, smiling from ear to ear. Thranduil chuckled and ruffled his son’s blond hair.

“Now, it’s time for sleep. All young archers need their rest.” His father said, tucking the sheets in around Legolas. He leaned down and kissed his son’s forehead and took the scrolls that were lying on top of the down comforter and laid them on the nightstand. “Goodnight, little green leaf.” He said softly.

“Goodnight, Ada.” Legolas said happily.

Thranduil smiled and was about to blow out the candle on his son’s nightstand when the scrolls that he had just put there caught his eye.

“Legolas?” he asked.

“Yes, Ada?”

“Where did you get these scrolls?”