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Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for the plot.

Warnings: There is no slash in this story. I have no problem with slash but I don't think Tolkien would want Legolas and Aragorn to love each other, do you? Also, I do not know everything there is to know about Lord of the Rings so please forgive some minor mistakes I make.

Thank you for reading. R&R!

-Chapter One-

Many Meetings

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The sweet smell of honeysuckle told them they were near Imladris. They could already see the grassy hills and plains, showered with tall trees, speckled with glowing flowers.

Smiles appeared on the weary travelers' faces. Among the travelers was King Thranduil and his young son, Legolas.

King Thranduil was kingly indeed. His golden tresses cascaded down his shoulders, well groomed and braided elaborately. His blue eyes held a light in them, a light of victory and splendor, kingly and powerful. His face was smooth and young but written with memories, painful and sorrowful yet sweet and calm he was.

He had a young son, Legolas Greenleaf. He was still young and small even for an Elf. His innocent, wide blue eyes were trimmed with silver, a light of mischief in them. The golden tresses lingering on his shoulders were specked with dirt and his face was round and cheeks rosy. And he was Prince of Mirkwood, only a mere one hundred and thirty years, but ten years did he look to Men.

The King was dressed in elegant robes as for the Prince, he was dressed in a green tunic and brown breeches, adorned with a quiver of arrows and a beautifully crafted bow.

They were traveling toward Imadris, toward the House of Elrond.

* * *

Estel grinned as he touched the cold ooze before his feet. He allowed the mud to slip through his fingers, staining them. Mischief glittered in his pale blue eyes as he allowed the mud to drip from his fingers. His dark hair fell before his eyes and he blew at them.

He was adorned in a silver tunic and grey breeches for the visitors from Mirkwood. Usually, he wore a brown tunic, dirty and stained as well as his young face and hair, uncombed and unruly.

A mischevious twinkle filled his eyes and a grin was usually pasted on his face. He was foster son of Elrond and younger than Elladan and Elrohir in age and looks but the three were the best of friends and caused trouble.

Glancing over his shoulder, Estel noticed the sun was slowly sinking behind the mountains, orange streaks painted in the colorless sky. A special feast would be held tonight for the guests and the sound of laughter was echoed from the hall.

Estel bit his lip and sprang to his feet, running towards the hall, mud flying from his hands, staining his breeches and tunic with small specks of ooze.

Atar will kill me!

The noise of folk became louder as he neared the hall, lit with bright lights, flowing out into the dark corridor. His feet carried him inside where several Elves were seated, talking and eating. The clinking of glasses and plates was clear amid the noise of talk.

Pairs of Elven eyes watched him curiously and some smiled brightly at him. He felt his cheeks burn as strided quickly towards the high table where Elrond sat, torn between amusement and anger. "Estel, where have you been? You are late," he said. "And your clothes are specked with mud as well as your hands."

His tone was angry but amusement was written on his face. "Elladan told me to," he said quickly, earning raised eyebrows.

"Oh, indeed?" Elrond asked. Estel wrung his hands and smiled sheepishly. Elrond laughed and waved towards an empty seat. Blushing, Estel sat in the empty seat, staring around him. Sitting to his left, Glorfindel was sipping a glass of wine, pleasantly and to his right, a small Elf sat.

His golden tresses glowed in the light, specked with dirt. His curious blue eyes surveyed him and a smirk was on his young, illuminated face.

"What?" Estel demanded, feeling angry at his smirk.

"Nothing," the Elf said smoothly. "You were late and dirty." Laughter shook his voice and anger filled Estel as he watched another smirk appear on the Elf's face.

"Your hair is dirty," he pointed out with a sneer. "And you look like a girl." The Elf seemed insulted and shot him a nasty glare, flames in his blue eyes.

"What's your name?" asked Estel curiously, keeping his sneer. The Elf curled his lip and answered with bitterness lacing his voice. "Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood!" He held his head high in the air, proud.

"So?" inquired Estel. "I don't even know where Mirkwood is!" Legolas's glare became worse if possible, his nose wrinkled and the flames rising in his blue eyes.

This battle of wits and insults continued, the two boys touching no food on their plate. Legolas's glare became worse and Estel's sneer widened. The two boys hated each other, no doubt. Food was the last on their minds, only insults which rolled off their tongues.

"I bet you don't know how to hold a sword or a bow!" Estel said smirking. Legolas gave a loud, unkingly (or unprincely) snort.

"I am the best at the bow," he boasted, blowing on his knuckles.

"I probably am better than you," Estel said.

"Oh, really? Then I challenge you to an archery contest! Let's see who's better," Legolas declared. "I will be the winner and I'll send you to your room crying."

"I think you will be the one crying," Estel replied. "I'll see you tomorrow at noon on the training grounds." He departed, walking toward his room, his stomach growling.

Ignoring hunger gnawing at his stomach, he jumped on his bed, glaring at the ceiling, the face of Legolas floating before his eyes. He would beat the Elf and send him home to Mirkwood crying. He would.

* * *

A/N: I have a question; would Aragorn's mother still be alive and living in Rivendell when he was ten? I'm not exactly sure because I was reading the appendix but it said nothing about her staying in Rivendell afterwards.

R&R!