Little Legolas Fic

Summary-This is a little Legolas fic. No slash. Please read and review. Please?

Disclaimer- I don't own lotr nor do I make money from this fic.

A/N-Legolas is the equivalent to 5 years old.

Prologue

"Arhivil! Get Legolas out of here!" Ailiel, Queen of Mirkwood cried.

The Prince's mentor quickly grabbed his hand and scooping him up began to run, the trees were feet away but the orcs were gaining fast. Only a handful had come after them though. As the prince looked over Arhivil's shoulder he saw his mother surrounded by orcs.

"Naneth," the young prince called out in terror, "Naneth!"

Hundreds of orcs were swarming everywhere, his mother was defending herself as best she could but wouldn't last for long and he was being carried up a tree, out of the orcs' reach. Up, up the tree he was carried, higher and higher, further and further from his mother. Suddenly he was almost flung from Arhivil's arms as an orc arrow hit her in the shoulder. She cried out in pain and was barely able to cling onto the young prince. She told him,

"Get further up the tree nin caun, hurry. Climb higher, get further up! Quick!"

Legolas hurriedly obeyed, climbing higher and higher, to safety. When he was as far up as he could get, he turned to see his mother and what he saw nearly made his heart stop. As if in slow motion he watched as an orc cut a small chunk out of his mothers side, then as she cried in pain holding the wound, another stuck its blade in her back, her bright blood stained the ground, she fell to her knees, gasping in pain. All the prince could hear was screaming, pain, yelling, and the cry of 'climb higher!' Black smoke from the fires the orcs had started clouded his lungs; his ears rung as another orc plunged his sword through his mother's chest. Falling back, his mother's blue eyes met his own, and through that gaze he heard her voice inside his head saying,

"Im meleth le, nin ion. Namarie."

"Naneth!" he was falling into darkness, falling, falling, falling…

"Naneth!" the little prince screamed, waking up and sitting bolt upright in bed.

Breathing hard he slowly looked around, the memories flooded back to him, visiting his sister's grave, the ambush, his mother's death.

"Naneth." He whispered to himself as silent tears flowed down his cheeks.

It had been three months since his mother's death, but still nightmares haunted him. Lying down again he fell asleep once more, only to see her soul departing from Middle-earth, crossing the sea, to Mandos.

Meanwhile, in the next room, King Thranduil of Mirkwood stood at his window, listening to his son, wishing he could have helped him but knowing he could not. He couldn't help with dreams the way that Ailiel had; she had always been the one to comfort the children after nightmares. Poor Thranduil was truly sorry that his hunting party hadn't got there sooner, he had been so close to saving her, but she had gone to the Halls of Mandos now. He only hoped she would have peace there, with the hope of a happy, quiet life, free from worry or doubt.

A/N - Legolas is sitting at the children's table because children aren't allowed at the high table.

The next day, at breakfast, the young prince sat very still, not eating much and not talking. Three young ones, Aros, Balar and Earelen, who were best friends, kept glancing at him pityingly.

"Poor caun," Balar said, "To suffer such loss and have no really close friends to lean on."

"Yeah, especially as he was there when his mother died," Aros added, "Seeing what happened to her must have been awful, her body was pretty mangled."

"Do you think maybe we should offer to help him?" Earelen asked, "That way we could be the friends he's always needed."

"And probably wanted." added Balar.

"Once breakfast's over, let's go and talk to him." Aros suggested.

"Good idea." The other two agreed.

For Legolas, breakfast seemed to last an eternity, he really wanted to go back to his room but he knew he had to wait. Finally the meal was nearly over. He felt someone looking at him. That stare made him feel uncomfortable. Most of the time he didn't mind people looking at him, but this time it was a strange feeling inside him that said 'I don't like the way I'm being stared at'. The prince turned to the direction the gaze was coming from and saw a young girl staring at him; she was about his age and sitting with two boys about the same age. As the two-made eye contact a sort of link was formed so neither could pull away.

Aros and Balar noticed something different about Earelen straight away, her pupils had gone bright silver and she was breathing hard and trembling slightly. Following the line of their friend's eyes they saw the young prince who was also breathing harder than normal and trembling slightly, though his eyes had remained the same. Legolas was desperately trying to break the gaze, for as the two stared at each other they both saw images of his mother's death, the nightmare he had had that night. At last Legolas was able to wrench his eyes from the girls, though it was painful to do so, and when he did Earelen gasped in pain and jerked forward slightly.

"Earelen, are you alright?" Aros asked.

"Was it another vision?" Balar questioned.

"I saw some of what happened to his Naneth," Earelen said in barely a whisper, unable to keep the distress out her voice, "He had a nightmare about it last night."

By this time breakfast was finished, so the three went to talk to the prince.

"You look troubled nin caun." Earelen began.

"'Tis nothing." Replied Legolas, looking up but careful not to make eye contact. Earelen and Balar were Silvan, Earelen had grey eyes, that looked almost silver and Balar had eyes as green as the leaves in spring. Both had light brown hair. Aros on the other hand was part Noldorian, part Sindarin and part Silvan. He had dark brown hair that in dim light would look black. His eyes were blue, like Legolas's own, but were greener than his, for Legolas's eyes were pure blue.

"Nin caun, you're distracted, and aren't eating right," Earelen argued, "I think something is troubling you."

"How is it you read me so well, yet we have never spoken." Legolas said, scowling.

"Looks can do strange things." Earelen said pointedly.

The prince's scowl deepened, but now it was one of sad anger,

"Indeed, if you'll excuse me, I need to see nin Adar about something." Legolas said curtly, and with that, left the hall. Once in the corridor he ran outside into the forest. When he was in a bit, he climbed a large tree and sobbed silently into the trunk.

Twenty minutes later, Aros, Balar and Earelen found the young prince, and climbed into the tree with him.

"Nin caun?" Balar asked uncertainly.

Legolas turn to the three; tears still streaming down his cheeks, then turned away again.

"Nin caun please," Earelen begged, "You know as well as any, grief can claim an elven life."

"Let us be your friends," Aros pleaded, "Don't bottle up your feelings in front of people the way you do."

"Your family need you, and you need friends to confide in, to be there for you." Balar told him, sincerity in every word.

Once more Legolas turned to them, but this time spoke in a voice that was sorrow filled and kept breaking,

"You don't understand, the look in her eyes, her voice inside my head, I, I-"

The poor prince could go no further, it was too painful, he broke down in tears, sobbing. Earelen went and put her arm round him, whispering comforting words to him. Once Legolas was able to stop crying he looked up, wiping the tears away from his eyes.

"People are really worried about you nin caun, they fear you might get sick because of your grief." Aros told him.

"You've been so quiet lately, and you haven't been eating right," Balar told him, "Some people even think we might lose you nin caun."

Legolas gave them a small grateful smile and asked,

"Would you be willing to help me through this then? And be my friends? I warn you, I'm not exactly an angel and do get into trouble."

"So do we nin caun, and we would love to help you, you'll really fit in with us."

"Thanks, but on one condition."

"What?" asked Balar curiously.

"You call me Legolas, not "nin caun", that's way too formal for friends."

A/N- Aros is older than Legolas by a few months, Balar is younger by six months and Earelen is younger by two months.

Translations

Naneth - Mother

Im meleth le - I love you

Nin ion - my son

Namarie - farewell

Nin caun - my prince

Nin Adar - my father