Chapter One

The Little Prince

A/N:: Hello… I decided to try my hand at fan fiction. I'm pretty sure that this sort of story may have been done before… but keep faith. I promise that there is a plot =)

Don't hesitate to give constructive criticism. =I don't mind flames… so if you hate it… FLAME AWAY.

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Laera woke that morning, sunlight streaming into her room. She smiled, gazing out of her window with eyes that have not yet awoken fully, welcoming the new day. The honeysuckle was in full bloom that time of year, it's aroma enfolding Laera in a cloak of sweet fragrance. The evening mist was creeping away on the far-off hills and the bird that lighted on her sill sang as if celebrating the beauty of the morning. It was one day sooner before father would return. She had wondered for a long time when that would be... it had been nearly two years since he had left, and she wondered if he would recognize her. She was growing up so fast! Hadn't Arwen remarked on how tall her little sister was getting just the other day?

Laera adored her older sister. One day, she vowed, I'll be just like Arwen. After getting dressed (she always insisted on doing it herself), Laera made her way to her father's study where she usually picked out a book to read to pass the time. She paused when she realized there was a man in the room. Shrinking back, Laera turned to leave the man to his business. She herself hated to be interrupted in the middle of a good book.

"Lee?" she heard a very familiar voice call. The world stood still as she recognized the old nick-name. Only one person had ever called her that. She stopped and turned slowly, her heart beginning to beat as if it were ready to burst from her chest. Running as quickly as her little legs can carry her, Laera threw herself into the open arms, a joy so strong it made her gasp filling her heart.

"Father!" she cried, as Lord Elrond embraced his daughter tightly. He had returned.

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Weeks passed by and the day came when her father announced that there will be guests coming to Rivendell. Laera felt extremely excited for she always wondered if Elves from different parts of Middle-Earth were alike. She dressed very carefully that morning, choosing her best dress and hair ribbon.

A few minutes later she stood in the great hall of the palace where her father would be receiving the guests. From behind the safety of Arwen's leg, Laera peeked at the Elves beginning to fill the large room. Why, they looked just like Rivendell elves, she thought to herself.

She watched as her father stepped forward and embraced what Laera assumed was the 'leader Elf'. Her eyes drifted and came to rest on the small chubby Elven boy just behind the Elf her father was now speaking animatedly to. She smiled shyly when the boy's eyes, which Laera reflected to be the most vivid blue she had ever seen, met hers. The boy smiled back, but then, to her shock, he impishly stuck out his tongue at her. Her jaw dropped open in amazement. Why, how dare he!

More Elves began to arrive and soon the boy was out of her sight. Just as well, the gall of him! She didn't see him for the rest of the feast and soon he was forgotten.

After a few hours, the fascination Laera held of the visitors died and she found herself extremely bored. Yawning, she lifted her head from her sister's arm and begged her to be excused.

"You won't tell father, will you?" she whispered.

"It will be our secret," Arwen winked confidentially.

Laera slipped from the hall and made her way to her room where she picked up her toy tea-set with the little pink daisies her mother had given her for her birthday. She then made her way to her special clearing in the forest surrounded by tall birches. All was still and Laera looked about her surroundings happily. She sat on her mossy stone and carefully placed each little tea cup on it's dainty pink saucer on the large rock which was her dinner table and waited for her friends, "Bertle The Dryad" and "Fiona the Fairy". Laera was an imaginative little elf who spent most of her days weaving little fantasies of the world outside of Rivendell. She often dreamed of escaping one night to travel 'to the ends of Middle-Earth'. The little phrase enchanted her with it's mystery and intrigue.

She didn't have to wait long. In her child's eye she saw her friends arriving; Bertle peeking out from behind the tree and Fiona floating from the lily pad in the marsh on which she had been sleeping on. She greeted them and began to engage them in what Laera thought was a very interesting conversation. As she was telling Bertle of the arrival of her father's guests, she froze when she heard a twig snap from behind her. She turned and faced the roly-poly young elf who had so insolently stuck his tongue out at her.

The little elf stood a few feet away, clutching a toy bow in one hand and a practice arrow in the other. His head cocked to one side... he was trying to figure out why the small Elf was speaking to herself. Laera got up slowly... a little annoyed that her conversation had been interrupted. Silence fell as both waited, rather uneasily, for the other to speak.

Finally, it was Laera who spoke. "What business have you here?" she commanded, trying to sound as grown up as a six year old Elven mite could.

"It was boring in the palace," the boy replied, taking a step closer. "I wanted to play outside..." he looked around at their surroundings. Laera, not appreciating the fact that he would simply not go away, decided to make the best of the situation.

"I am Laera," she introduced herself. "Would you like to join my tea party?" she invited graciously, gesturing to the little tea set at her feet. The boy snorted rudely.

"Tea party? Those are for little girls. I'd rather hunt beasts and monsters prowling around these woods."

"Hunt? That bow and arrow are merely toys," she sneered, offended at his refusal.

The boy glanced down at his weapons regretfully. "What does a girl know about archery? Especially one who looks as stupid and ugly as you." Oh the emphasis he put in 'you'. "One day," he said fixing an arrow onto the bow and pointing it straight at her chest, "I'll become a great archer."

She roughly pushed aside the arrow and glared at him. Laera decided that the boy was quite rude and gathered her tea set to leave. "Where are you going?" the boy called after her.

"To the palace. I have better things to do than to spend my time with a nameless nobody Elf like you," she said, nose in the air. She blinked her eyes furiously, trying to hold back the impending tears. She would not let him see her cry.

This he didn't like at all. Quickly, he caught up to her and grabbed her arm. "For your information," the little Elf cried, "I am Prince Legolas of Greenwood forest. My father is King Thranduil. THE King Thranduil," he concluded, sticking out his chest in pride. That'll show her who's boss.

She was not sure of who Thranduil was and where exactly Greenwood forest was located, but at this point, she wouldn't have cared if the boy turned out to be her long lost brother. Ah, the devastating effect of first impressions... namely bad ones. She shook his hand loose and stalked away, still trying to recover from the fact that he had called her 'ugly'.

Throughout prince Legolas's time spent in Rivendell, Laera refused to speak to him, no matter how much Arwen coaxed. Not that he made any effort to apologize. Her childish pride suffered a terrible wound and she vowed that she would hate him for all of eternity. Legolas, on the other hand, felt the resentment and stayed well away from her. In his eyes, he had never seen a girl more snobbish and stuck-up. A regular priss like all of Rivendell Elves. Well, he reflected, princess Arwen was quite beautiful.

In visits to come, Lord Elrond would urge the two little Elves to play with each other; why exactly, Laera could not understand for she believed she had made it perfectly clear to her father that she did not want to have anything to do with prince Legolas. Her father would just smile vaguely at her protests and would say "..it will pass and one day you will find yourself looking forward to his visits."

She always made a face at those type of remarks. Each year Legolas was getting more and more on her nerves. He would beg her to play silly war games in which she was always the enemy and he would shoot his play arrows at her fleeing body. He seemed to enjoy aiming his arrows at her. He always refused to play the games she wanted; he always rolled his eyes at her fancies or made gagging noises when she suggested he play a soldier rescuing her from some peril.

Then came a time when his visits ended. She was quite relieved for she always dreaded the time when Legolas came to Rivendell. Her father had told her that Legolas was busy learning archery and practicing using long knives. "Perhaps one day he will become a great archer..." she thought resentfully.

But thoughts of her childhood 'playmate' came less and less and soon prince Legolas was nothing but a distant memory.

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