Everything had built up within him, threatening to shatter him from the inside out. How could one person possibly handle so much? His thoughts and emotions had been swarming so violently within him that he could hardly contain them.

He stopped counting the number of arrows he'd released into the overburdened target at the end of the field long ago. He came to the conclusion that it no longer really mattered, anyway. After all, no amount of arrows could ever reach far enough to stop the pain.

He didn't want to feel anymore. Why couldn't it just stop?


A small huff of air blew long blond strands away from a young, exasperated elven face. Dark blue eyes rolled with impatience, not resting on the source of his irritation. Having to listen to the dull tones of his tutor explaining the military structure of the Elvenking's Royal Army was the last activity he wanted to be doing. He let his eyes roam around the chamber, not resting on anything in particular and certainly not sacrificing any attention to his tutor.

Legolas hid a massive yawn behind one hand, rubbing at his eyes and resting his chin in his other. It had been more of the same thing each day of the week; it wasn't as if he would ever learn anything useful. Slender fingers tapped a peeved rhythm on the smooth wood beside the open text in front of him while the elfling tried to imagine himself anywhere else other than the quiet chamber he currently occupied. Instead of memorizing rules and regulations, Legolas craved the freedom of delicately-crafted wood and carefully-maintained fletching. He craved an adventure.

"Legolas, can you tell me what the 'Rule of Four' is?"

Halioth, Legolas' tutor, positioned himself in front of the adolescent elf's downcast eyes and tapped his foot while waiting for an answer.

Why should Legolas answer? He wasn't allowed to participate in warrior training this season, so why should he be bothered to learn about the military structure of an army he wasn't permitted to be part of?

'It isn't fair!' He thought, frowning and pulling his eyebrows together in frustration. Legolas looked up at his tutor, narrowing his eyes and pouting slightly. He felt like being willfully obstinate, whether he knew better or not. If no one would treat him like an adult, then why bother presenting himself as one? It would do no good in the current situation.

"Prince Legolas, I trust you are paying attention to this information?"

Halioth focused his disapproving gaze at the wound-up adolescent prince. The elder could tell his student was no longer focused on the task at hand, assuming he had ever been at all. Judging by the huffs, glares, and all-around lack of eye contact, Legolas hadn't been invested in the lesson since the moment he trudged into the chamber.

It was obvious that Halioth barely had the prince's attention from the very start of the lesson, let alone this far into it. He wasn't blind, he could see the gloominess that radiated from his young charge. It filled the room, it was so potent.

Even the subtle pout of the young elf's mouth added to an image of a child who simply did not wish to be there. Halioth was no fool. His charge was avoiding the chance to learn. It was just as well, for he could not teach a child who didn't want to learn, no matter what the lesson was.

"The 'Rule of Four' applies to the number of warriors in each group," Legolas began in as uninterested a voice as he could muster, straining to remember the names of each group. "There are four warriors to a Squad, four squads to a Band, four bands… um, four—"

"Four bands to a Company, and four companies to a Host. We've been over this twice, my lord. I'm afraid you're too distracted to retain this information. Valar forbid I ask you what rank leads each of these groups."

Legolas sighed, his slender shoulders slumping in defeat. He didn't want to learn this information from a tutor. He wanted to be part of a squad. He would surely know it, then. And someday, he'd want to be a high captain in charge of an entire company of elves, like his brothers Thallion and Faervere. It just wasn't fair that he had to sit back while everyone else got to protect the kingdom.

His father, the Elvenking Thranduil, had been holding him back, hoping to spare the adolescent from having to grow up too quickly. His three older brothers were all warriors of Mirkwood, risking their lives each day to keep the kingdom safe. For Valar's sake, Calaeron was now royal commander of the largest remaining host in Mirkwood! And all he could do was sit with a tutor. Like that was going to help the kingdom.

Not. Fair.

It seemed that every elf in the kingdom had been allowed to train, and Legolas was sat here, learning their names and dreaming of one day being just like them. While the remaining elflings in Mirkwood had begun warrior training, Legolas was confined indoors to books and scrolls and tutors.

Even his best friends were now in training. Just that morning, his friends Alarcien and Mitsion were thrilled to be headed to their lesson for the day. The two would be finishing their first week of archery training—the first phase of warrior training for every Mirkwood elf—and Legolas had been glum the entire time. They were barely half a century older than him, and yet they were free to do as they wished.

He was 42, why couldn't his Ada let him train with his friends? It wasn't like there would be any more opportunities for Legolas to train with elves close to his own age, as he was the youngest elf in Mirkwood. The sickness strangling the forest around them had finally seeped into the palace walls, and no elf was comfortable bringing an elfling into such darkness. His own existence had been a miracle, why tempt fate twice?

The only elves who would be training after his age-mates would be those elves who weren't quite your average warrior: cooks, tailors, stable hands and the like. And then there was him. He would be right beside them, feeling like a fool.

"Prince Legolas, I believe our lesson is over today. We'll try again tomorrow when you are better able to focus on your studies."

Legolas wasted no time gathering his materials, loading them into his small bag while keeping his head down. Despite not wanting to participate in the lesson, he did feel bad. He had wasted Halioth's time, after all. Perhaps the tutor would understand?

The young elfling lifted his bag onto one bony shoulder and slowly dragged himself out of the chamber, not thrilled in the least to have more unoccupied sulking time. Halioth merely stared after the young elf, his light blue eyes softening.

'Oh, to be young and misunderstood,' Halioth laughed quietly to himself as he cleaned up the remaining scrolls from the table and extinguished the few candles and lanterns that lit up the small room.

Someday, the prince would realize that he wasn't simply being held back to spite him. He was being protected in the only way the Elvenking knew how. Legolas was the last elfling in the kingdom, was it so wrong to want to keep him innocent for a little while longer? Halioth would never begrudge the king for doing what was necessary to protect his youngest child, for Halioth would do the very same thing were he faced with the same decision.

Legolas trudged down the hall, feeling like nothing more than a defeated child. Now that the lesson was finished, he almost wished he were still with the tutor. He had nothing to do once his afternoon session with Halioth was over. He couldn't go onto the palace grounds and run with his friends. He couldn't try his hand at archery and train for the annual summer competition, listening to his name being chanted by more than a hundred excited elves.

Legolas wouldn't get to see the look on his Ada's face as he sunk yet another arrow into a target, or his Naneth's proud smile as his scores were released. He couldn't compare his tallies to Calaeron's records, or laugh at the indignant look on Faervere's face—Faervere hated archery. Legolas wouldn't be able to ask for pointers from Thallion or take advice from the older archers.

None of it would be his experience.

He dragged his feet and sighed as he walked down the hall. All he could focus on was what he wasn't allowed to do.

He remembered a time when he was younger, when he could run through these halls without a single care. Except for his bout with the spiders, that is. But even then, his heart warmed at the love his older brothers had showed him when they helped him overcome what was his biggest fear as a youngling.

These halls held a lot of wonderful memories. They had obviously seen more than one moody elfling in their time, but Legolas had never felt so lost in his entire life. There was no one around to guide him through his turmoil. No one else understood what it felt like to be the last of anything.

"Legolas!"

Looking up, the prince spotted his two older friends arriving from the archery fields. Their breaths were coming in fatigued huffs and their flushed skin was covered in sweat and dirt, except for the small patches on their arms where their arm-guards protected them. Alarcien and Mitsion had the happily-exhausted look that came with a hard lesson. They were excited to be tired, enjoying the soreness of their muscles and the grime that coated their young bodies.

Already, he could see a change in them. Mitsion seemed to have grown an inch, his youthful face thinning and losing a little of its roundness left over from childhood. The boy had always had an endless amount of energy, but he was already learning better ways to channel it. Legolas could tell by the calmer set of his shoulders and the way the other boy's hands didn't nearly vibrate with built up energy.

Alarcien exuded confidence that was rare for the elleth. She stood straighter, walking with a bounce in her step that definitely hadn't been there earlier that week. Her blond hair had fallen out of the single plait Legolas had helped her with early that morning, and the prince noticed a feather had been caught somewhere in the end of her tangled hair. But despite that, he could see that she was finding a better way to belong somewhere.

They had both matured in ways only camaraderie could provide. He would never know what it was like to be part of something bigger than himself. To rely on another elf with absolute trust, knowing that they were by your side through it all.

He had no clue what it felt like to be so exhausted and so full of life at the same time.

The most labor-filled thing Legolas had done all day was the restless tapping of his fingers earlier, while his two friends looked as though they'd grown years ahead of him and he felt he would never be able to catch up.

"Today's lesson was amazing!" Mitsion shouted, using his hands to describe just how exciting and exhilarating the day really was for him. "We learned how to use the fletching so we can—"

Alarcien roughly elbowed Mitsion, who hadn't noticed how unhappy Legolas looked at having to listen to their jubilation. The expression on his face was almost like a shutter, closing them out and protecting himself from his loneliness. Alarcien could see the discouraged frown that fought its way through the impassive face Legolas was trying so hard to wear. The prince was attempting to hide his disinterest, but he failed to be convincing enough to fool his best friends.

The elleth's face softened. She knew what it was like to be left out, to be the last one picked for a game or to just be completely overlooked. Maybe she wasn't in the same family as Legolas, or didn't have the same pressures he did. Maybe she had no idea what being a royal felt like, but being a girl meant she wasn't taken as seriously as others. Though it was frowned upon, young elves saw girls in a different light. They were weaker, frailer, or simply needed more protection. That didn't really change until she made it into the training class, where everyone equally lacked experience and no one was ahead of anyone else.

"What if we went onto the field now that everyone has cleared?"

Both Legolas and Mitsion stared at her as though they had no idea who she was. Was she crazy? They couldn't go out unsupervised!

"I don't know…"

Legolas didn't dare to hope that his friend was serious about her offer. After all, she would be risking a lot for him if she was caught. But maybe that was what made it all the more exciting. The thought that he would be doing exactly what his Ada didn't want him to be doing seemed an absolutely thrilling idea.

'How could he ever find out?' Legolas contemplated the offer. 'He's always too busy, he really won't know.'

Alarcien looked at Mitsion, silently conveying their need to help their younger friend. Legolas had been there for both of them multiple times over the years, so it was time for them to return the favor. And it wasn't as if they could really get into much trouble when they were with the youngest prince, could they?

Alarcien's light grey eyes pleaded with Mitsion's darker ones. It was almost their duty as Legolas' friends to support him and take his mind off his problems. If he couldn't be part of their training group, then the least they could do was to pass on as much knowledge as they could. After all, he would have a lot of catching up to do once the Elvenking finally allowed him to train.

"Yeah, let's go now," Mitsion carefully suggested. He supposed it wouldn't hurt if they went after hours. "No one should be there now that the training class is over."


-This story will be a pretty long one, but it is finished and I will update on a regular basis. It's a continuation of my previous LOTR stories, but it should still make sense without them. There will be seven chapters in total, so look for my updates in the coming week. I should be posting a chapter per day! Don't hesitate to leave me a review, I am always open to your opinion! It definitely lets me know if I'm traveling in the right direction.

Thanks!

-FiTS