There are three parts to love: one- finding. Two- loving, and three-
Losing.
Lasgalen moaned and rolled out of bed. Today was the day that his father was to hold the annual feast in the kingdom of Greenwood. Today was the day that numerous elven maidens were polishing and primping themselves, trying to get their petite bodies to fit into dresses that looked as though they could fit nothing less than a twig.
He was exaggerating, of course, but that was because he did not like elven maidens. Well, he liked his mother well enough, and his cousins, and Galadriel, and Celebrian, but he despised all the maidens who practically lay themselves at his and his brother's feet.
His brother; Legolas was Lasgalen's favorite elf. No one could replace his older brother. Legolas was the one who stood by his brother in all times of need. If there were an annoying maiden who was in search of him to court, Legolas would sacrifice his own sanity to distract her.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he sighed. He nodded. 'Today, Lasgalen, you must be on your best behavior. There will be no excuse for any type of misbehaving. Father has gone through much toil and trouble to give the citizens of Greenwood something to be happy about, and you will not destroy it,' the young prince thought to himself.
He pushed himself away from the mirror and pulled out his best robe from his wardrobe. Carefully inspecting it, he checked if it was still in his pocket. Yes, it was! Perfect! His peashooter was still there. Now he could - no; he couldn't. He had promised his father that he would act like a mature elf and not like a spoilt elfling.
He balled his fist in frustration. A knock came upon his door, and he hastily shoved the shooter into the back of the wardrobe. "Yes?" he called out.
"Father wishes to see you, Lasgalen," the velvety voice of his brother replied as the door opened. In response to his brother's sigh Legolas chuckled, "you know, it is not as bad as you make it out to be. Perhaps if you were more optimistic, you would see."
"Certainly that all works if you are the most popular elf in Greenwood, but none of us have the incredible abilities of the perfect Prince Legolas," he said half jokingly, but Legolas did not mind his words; he knew his brother inside out, and he would never intentionally hurt him.
"Alright then, unpopular one, shall we go see father?" he asked. Lasgalen frowned in confusion. As though reading his mind Legolas stated, "you do not expect me to leave you on your own while our father lectures you, do you?"
Lasgalen grinned. His brother was the best.
Half an hour later, Lasgalen and Legolas emerged from their father's study laughing and joking. What they had believed to be a lecture was not so. Their father was discussing with them the best ways to avoid annoying elven maidens. They had shared many laughs and stories likewise.
"Ah, my friend, I am overjoyed to see you here, patiently talking with the elven maidens who upset you so," Isil, Lasgalen's best friend after his brother, said. It was merely two hours after the feast had begun, and it was already starting to take its toll on the young prince.
Lasgalen laughed good-humouredly. "You know not the half of it," he replied. "I have just spent the greater part of my feast trying to get rid of a particular elven maiden who goes by the name of - who is that?"
Isil frowned at his friend and followed his trail of sight to see an elven maiden was sitting on her own, watching other elves dance, but not participating. Every so often, she would smile politely and nod if an Eldar came by her. "Oh, her," Isil drawled.
Lasgalen glanced at him. "You do not sound pleased," he remarked with a hint of curiosity.
He made a face. "She is not worth our time. I know not of her name, but I have seen her. She comes to these functions rarely. Her family, though, is quite noble in standards," he explained.
Lasgalen raised a skeptical brow at his friend, "then what is the problem?" Isil made a face in turn.
"Is this true what I am hearing? Prince Lasgalen asking about a female?" he stated as though he were shocked. The prince gave him a death glare, and it was all he could do to keep from wiping his smirk off his face.
"Alright, I'll tell you. The truth is that she is a common elf. She does not look exceptional, nor does she want to look better. She is timid from what I see, and does not participate in any dancing." He took a deep breath, "As I said before, she is not worth it. Come, let's go," he pulled at his friend's arm.
Lasgalen resisted. Something about this elf intrigued him, and he wanted to find out just what it was. He pulled his arm out of his friend's grasp. "Come, let's talk with her."
The closer he got to her, the more he saw that his friend was right. She did look like the common elven maiden. It was obvious, too, that by the dress she wore, that she cared little for enhancing her beauty.
She, hearing their footsteps, looked up as they approached. When she saw that it was the prince and one of his friends, she nearly choked on her goblet of water. "I thought I would find you here," a voice said from on her left.
She looked to find the owner of the voice. It was a rude elf named Cirivon. She sighed. Wonderful. The last person she wanted to see was the first person to talk to her. Looking back in front of her, she saw that the two elves that had been coming towards her before had now stopped and were watching in curiosity.
She looked around in hopes for an escape, but there was none. As soon as Cirivon made a motion to sit down next to her, she stood up and said that she felt like dancing. She began to move towards the area where other elves were dancing, but then Cirivon ran up to her and said that he would dance with her.
She, disliking him very much said, "no! What I mean to say is that I would very much like some time alone.to myself.without you." The elf still wasn't getting it through his head. She sighed and went back to sit down.
Lasgalen chuckled at the sight of the ignorant elf. Isil groaned and pulled him away to join their other friends. The elven maiden was forgotten.
"So what was it son, that you wanted to talk with me about?" King Thranduil asked his son, Lasgalen. It had been nearly a year after the feast, and Lasgalen had asked to have an audience with his father.
The young prince looked at his father with pleading eyes. "I need to leave father. I feel trapped. I want to go from Greenwood and all it's demands and elves and just be on my own for some time," he said in a sorrowful voice.
King Thranduil looked at his son in concern. Lasgalen had often left the Greenwood Kingdom for even months at a time just to go on an adventure. This was the first time he was going because of all his frustrations.
Thranduil thought for a moment. "Yes, of course, my son. I will not hinder you."
Lasgalen almost fell to his knees in gratitude. "Thank you, father. I will return soon. I know not if I will write to you, but I promise you I will return."
Thranduil merely raised his hand in acceptance, but the pain on his face was readable.
Lasgalen moaned and rolled out of bed. Today was the day that his father was to hold the annual feast in the kingdom of Greenwood. Today was the day that numerous elven maidens were polishing and primping themselves, trying to get their petite bodies to fit into dresses that looked as though they could fit nothing less than a twig.
He was exaggerating, of course, but that was because he did not like elven maidens. Well, he liked his mother well enough, and his cousins, and Galadriel, and Celebrian, but he despised all the maidens who practically lay themselves at his and his brother's feet.
His brother; Legolas was Lasgalen's favorite elf. No one could replace his older brother. Legolas was the one who stood by his brother in all times of need. If there were an annoying maiden who was in search of him to court, Legolas would sacrifice his own sanity to distract her.
Looking at himself in the mirror, he sighed. He nodded. 'Today, Lasgalen, you must be on your best behavior. There will be no excuse for any type of misbehaving. Father has gone through much toil and trouble to give the citizens of Greenwood something to be happy about, and you will not destroy it,' the young prince thought to himself.
He pushed himself away from the mirror and pulled out his best robe from his wardrobe. Carefully inspecting it, he checked if it was still in his pocket. Yes, it was! Perfect! His peashooter was still there. Now he could - no; he couldn't. He had promised his father that he would act like a mature elf and not like a spoilt elfling.
He balled his fist in frustration. A knock came upon his door, and he hastily shoved the shooter into the back of the wardrobe. "Yes?" he called out.
"Father wishes to see you, Lasgalen," the velvety voice of his brother replied as the door opened. In response to his brother's sigh Legolas chuckled, "you know, it is not as bad as you make it out to be. Perhaps if you were more optimistic, you would see."
"Certainly that all works if you are the most popular elf in Greenwood, but none of us have the incredible abilities of the perfect Prince Legolas," he said half jokingly, but Legolas did not mind his words; he knew his brother inside out, and he would never intentionally hurt him.
"Alright then, unpopular one, shall we go see father?" he asked. Lasgalen frowned in confusion. As though reading his mind Legolas stated, "you do not expect me to leave you on your own while our father lectures you, do you?"
Lasgalen grinned. His brother was the best.
Half an hour later, Lasgalen and Legolas emerged from their father's study laughing and joking. What they had believed to be a lecture was not so. Their father was discussing with them the best ways to avoid annoying elven maidens. They had shared many laughs and stories likewise.
"Ah, my friend, I am overjoyed to see you here, patiently talking with the elven maidens who upset you so," Isil, Lasgalen's best friend after his brother, said. It was merely two hours after the feast had begun, and it was already starting to take its toll on the young prince.
Lasgalen laughed good-humouredly. "You know not the half of it," he replied. "I have just spent the greater part of my feast trying to get rid of a particular elven maiden who goes by the name of - who is that?"
Isil frowned at his friend and followed his trail of sight to see an elven maiden was sitting on her own, watching other elves dance, but not participating. Every so often, she would smile politely and nod if an Eldar came by her. "Oh, her," Isil drawled.
Lasgalen glanced at him. "You do not sound pleased," he remarked with a hint of curiosity.
He made a face. "She is not worth our time. I know not of her name, but I have seen her. She comes to these functions rarely. Her family, though, is quite noble in standards," he explained.
Lasgalen raised a skeptical brow at his friend, "then what is the problem?" Isil made a face in turn.
"Is this true what I am hearing? Prince Lasgalen asking about a female?" he stated as though he were shocked. The prince gave him a death glare, and it was all he could do to keep from wiping his smirk off his face.
"Alright, I'll tell you. The truth is that she is a common elf. She does not look exceptional, nor does she want to look better. She is timid from what I see, and does not participate in any dancing." He took a deep breath, "As I said before, she is not worth it. Come, let's go," he pulled at his friend's arm.
Lasgalen resisted. Something about this elf intrigued him, and he wanted to find out just what it was. He pulled his arm out of his friend's grasp. "Come, let's talk with her."
The closer he got to her, the more he saw that his friend was right. She did look like the common elven maiden. It was obvious, too, that by the dress she wore, that she cared little for enhancing her beauty.
She, hearing their footsteps, looked up as they approached. When she saw that it was the prince and one of his friends, she nearly choked on her goblet of water. "I thought I would find you here," a voice said from on her left.
She looked to find the owner of the voice. It was a rude elf named Cirivon. She sighed. Wonderful. The last person she wanted to see was the first person to talk to her. Looking back in front of her, she saw that the two elves that had been coming towards her before had now stopped and were watching in curiosity.
She looked around in hopes for an escape, but there was none. As soon as Cirivon made a motion to sit down next to her, she stood up and said that she felt like dancing. She began to move towards the area where other elves were dancing, but then Cirivon ran up to her and said that he would dance with her.
She, disliking him very much said, "no! What I mean to say is that I would very much like some time alone.to myself.without you." The elf still wasn't getting it through his head. She sighed and went back to sit down.
Lasgalen chuckled at the sight of the ignorant elf. Isil groaned and pulled him away to join their other friends. The elven maiden was forgotten.
"So what was it son, that you wanted to talk with me about?" King Thranduil asked his son, Lasgalen. It had been nearly a year after the feast, and Lasgalen had asked to have an audience with his father.
The young prince looked at his father with pleading eyes. "I need to leave father. I feel trapped. I want to go from Greenwood and all it's demands and elves and just be on my own for some time," he said in a sorrowful voice.
King Thranduil looked at his son in concern. Lasgalen had often left the Greenwood Kingdom for even months at a time just to go on an adventure. This was the first time he was going because of all his frustrations.
Thranduil thought for a moment. "Yes, of course, my son. I will not hinder you."
Lasgalen almost fell to his knees in gratitude. "Thank you, father. I will return soon. I know not if I will write to you, but I promise you I will return."
Thranduil merely raised his hand in acceptance, but the pain on his face was readable.