Touch of Magic

It was one of THOSE days. Prince or no, Legolas found himself being shooed like a kitten at every turn. No one would answer even the simplest of his questions, and indeed seemed intent on either pawning him off on another, or avoiding his inquiries completely. This was especially annoying since there were rumors abuzz about a wizard visiting the kingdom of Mirkwood. This bit of information was of marked interest to the youngest prince since his aspiration of the moment was to become a caster.

Thranduil welcomed Gandalf the Gray with open arms.
"Fine to see you well, old friend. My rangers saw you safe through the wood?"
"Safe and sure. A shame to see your home overrun with such darkness."
"That is, of course, why I found it necessary to call you here. But first, I think it would be rude of me to not offer you relaxation before matters of state after such a journey.

The scribe-apprentice of Mirkwood had developed a sense. He knew what was coming, but only a second before he was hit by the silver, green and gold weight that was the young prince. Legolas was still light in his adolescence, but the force with which he pounced was more than enough to flatten Tiriel into the ground.
"The hawk has caught a mouse!" Legolas laughed, straddling his best friend's back. He grabbed two handfuls of the scribe's bobbed hair, an odd mix of platinum and strawberry blonde, and shook him. Tiriel lay stunned for a few moments, then began to struggle to push the young prince off his spine.
"That one who looks so light can weigh so much! Off, my dear prince, before you crush me!"
"Heavy? Me?" Legolas shook him again, then repositioned himself on the flailing elf so he knelt entirely on his back. Tiriel made a choked sound and squirmed as Legolas pressed his knees into his shoulderblades.
"OFF! Off or I swear, Legolas, I'll tickle you until you cannot breathe!"
"You cannot tickle what you cannot catch, and I am a wisp of fog on the morning wind while you, sweet friend, are an old bagfrog who can barely chase the slowest of insects!"
"I'll show you who is a frog!" Tiriel laughed, pushing up suddenly, delighted by Legolas' yelp of surprise as he tumbled off his body and landed gracelessly on his arse. The scribe whirled on the prince, pinning the smaller elf under his greater weight, and set into tickling him intensely through his silk tunic. Several heads peered around corners at the prince's insane screeches, wondering what poor bird had been trapped into the halls of the court and was screaming to escape. It was a mixture of relief, annoyance and amusement to see the two elves rolling around on the floor in mortal tickle-combat.
Legolas finally curled into a tight ball, Tiriel making quite good on his promise. The prince panted out a whimpered acquiescence, his face streaked with tears of mirth.
"Ai-aiii! I relent! You are my superior in this form of battle!" Legolas pulled his hands up under his chin, feigning animal submission. It was Tiriel's turn to grab Legolas' champagne blonde hair, particularly the plaits at his temples. He tied them in a knotted bow over the prince's forehead so the tails hung down on either side of his fine nose.
"And the mouse bests the hawk again!"
"Indeed, but the hawk would like to pick the mouse's mind!"
"Oh?" Tiriel stood, pulling the elfin-teenager to his feet, "What curiosity drives you now?"
"Have you any news on the wizard that comes to visit my father?"
"Legolas..."
"I've never seen one of the Istari! He is Istari, isn't he?"
"What else would he be?"
"Where has father hidden him? Do you know? I want to meet him!"
"I don't know exactly where... But I have seen him. Gandalf the Gray."
"Gandalf?" Legolas' sapphire eyes glowed with excitement, "I've heard of him! You yourself have told me tales...! He is a great wizard indeed! I wonder for what business Father has called him here?"
"I've heard rumors from Golwen that it is something to do with pushing back the orcs." The scribe saw a dark fire burn in Legolas' eyes at the mention of the despised creatures.
"Good, then perhaps my desire to be a student in such arts will be fully embraced."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps everyone will just sigh and write it off as yet another of your phases." At that flippant answer, Tiriel found himself pounced again.

"Such fine flavorful fish, good king! A long time since I have tasted something so delightful!"
"Thank not me, but those who prepare it. Alas, my skill in such areas is painfully lacking. Brethril, do remind me to pass the compliments of our honored guest on?"
"Of course father."

Peering over the prince's head, Tiriel managed to get a hair-obscured view of the wizard dining with the King and Crown Prince of Mirkwood. Legolas snorted from his half-crouched position, leaning slightly against the door to the king's chamber to keep it cracked.
"Brethril gets to meet him, so why not myself? He's not even interested in magic, just weaponry!"
"Might it have something to do with his being heir apparent and therefore highly involved with affairs of this kingdom?"
"And you think he hasn't lorded being first born over me before?" Legolas' eyes narrowed in envy as the three diners laughed at some joke he missed in his grousing. He turned his head, giving his friend a look of rebellion," I'll not stand for it this time! It is my dream to become a wizard such as Gandalf!"
"You cannot be a wizard! You are Sindarin, not Istari!" Tiriel returned, pointedly.
"That matters not! I can do whatever I choose if I put all of my head, hand and heart into it. My soul is a mage's soul!"
"Now, I remember you saying something to this effect many years ago... except I think it was Mine is a Speaker's soul.' And I recall you relinquishing your desire to be a beastspeaker when those wolves nearly ate you for bothering their cub."
"I thought it was in need."
"You were the one in need; treed like a bear cub and shaking like a leaf in the wind."

The three at the table looked towards the door, a hair-fine line of light slipping between them, accompanied by a hissed and chattering argument, like displeased birds in a tree. Gandalf looked to the King then raised one shaggy eyebrow as he snapped his fingers.
There was a sound of sharp surprise as the door blew open, catching both young elves off guard. Legolas might have caught himself had Tiriel not been supporting his weight upon his back. Both tumbled through the portal in a tangle of limbs and leather, this one's jewelry snagging on that's shirt, long fingers caught in soft hair as they strove to both pry themselves apart and get up at the same time.
Gandalf stood slowly, the room suddenly becoming cold, dark. The young pair at the door froze as the wizard approached them with agonizing deliberateness, the only sound the steady clack of his staff upon the tiles. Legolas pressed back against Tiriel, his eyes huge with awe and fear. The wizard loomed over them then leaned over, his thick beard brushing the prince' face, until they were almost nose to nose. Wider the young elf's eyes opened as the Istari's narrowed.
"Frrrrrrroggggggs."
Thranduil could not suppress his laughter as his youngest son and his scribe friend screamed and stepped on each other fleeing the room at Gandalf's deeply growled word. He had not seen anyone move so quickly in over a thousand years.
"Oh dear," Gandalf chuckled a bit, his aura fading and leaving again an old man with a smiling face, "I did not mean to scare them THAT badly!"
"Perhaps it will teach my brother to not spy where he shouldn't!" Brethril laughed, thought for a moment, finger to the corner of his mouth, then shook his head, smiling, "But most likely not."

Legolas lay on his bed, still jumpy. He felt a fool for his behavior, but could he be blamed? Though he had heard that Gandalf was of mild temperament, he certainly had not looked it! And moreover he had intended to turn them into frogs! That was what he said, wasn't it?
"Have you never been advised Meddle not in the affairs of wizards, for you are easily turned into a ferret."
Legolas nearly rolled off his bed whirling around to face the Istari. He had not heard the door open or close! He stared with wide, apprehensive eyes at Gandalf.
"I-I did not mean to intrude! I was just- I do not want to be a ferret!"
"A joke, young Greenleaf. Calm yourself." Gandalf smiled, sitting down in the nearest chair, "You don't mind?"
"No, no of course not... but..."
"But?"
"Are you SURE you're not here to turn me into something?"
Gandalf raised an eyebrow at the dubious, distrusting look the young prince gave him, then burst out laughing.
"Hah! Neither ferret nor frog would suit you, young prince!" He leaned back in the chair, smiling broadly. He watched Legolas stare, then relax, his elven face brightening.
"I-I was only spying because... I want to be a wizard like you!"
"Do you now, Prince Greenleaf?"
"I know I am not Istari... I'm only an elf..."
"Only an elf! Only an elf would say that!"
"Please, Master Gandalf, hear me. I am the fifth child and fourth son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. My place here is... I fill space. I fear I shall never be anything, anyone of any import, of use, to my kingdom. The Darkness creeps further and further into my home. All I want is a way to aid those I love."
"What of your bow? Your father has fine words for your ability to shoot."
"My bow..." Legolas half-laughed, "Potential, but there are archers here from the First Age, and I stand as no match for them. I want to be there on the front line beside my father and brothers and know I will make a difference... Not left to guard the fort..."
"You want to fight?" Gandalf raised an eyebrow at the prince's impassioned plea.
"I want to be someone."
"You are someone. You are Legolas. That is all you need to be."
"That is not much."
"You are too young yet to see your importance in the world. But you will in time. Not every elf or man is meant for the heat of battle. Do you really feel the drums of war beating within you, or something else?"
Legolas listened carefully to the wizard's questions... and then to his own self. There was a long, long moment of silence before the elf answered.
"I do not feel anything. I fear I have no calling."
"So you've settled on the long path of the mage?" He leaned in to scrutinize the prince. Legolas could not suppress a blush.
"I suppose I have not settled on anything. I loathe to admit that I have been, in the past, been convinced of other "SURE" callings, but this one seems..."
"Right?"
"Yes." Gandalf laughed at his answer.
"For now it seems right. In a hundred years you will feel a new calling, and in a hundred years after that another. Be patient, young prince. Your purpose will reveal itself in time. Your life is eternal and there is no point rushing towards destiny."
A heavy sigh parted the elf's lips, and he fought back tears at the Istari's wise words. He curled his legs to his chest and rested his face on his knees. A large part of him could not fathom the thought of living forever. Part of him, a small part, already craved Valinor, and an eternity of golden afternoons with no fear. Another part wanted to tame the wolves, drive out the spiders, and slaughter the orcs... the orcs... arrows and blood and feathers.... Cruel monsters.
A wrinkled finger under his chin tilted his face up and his eyes met Gandalf's. The wizard's warm eyes sparkled with life and mischief.
"Your are also too young to bear that sorrowful look your elders do. Now smile for me, and I'll show you something I think will amuse you..."

"So, Legolas, what did you think of our visiting Istari?" Brethril smiled over dinner. The wizard left that morning for Lothlórien after a week in Mirkwood.
"He was a fascinating man to be sure. So much of the world he has seen, and such tales he had to tell."
"Indeed," Malen smiled, "a wise man and a good ally. He shall aid us greatly against the dark forces." Thranduil's secondborn nodded to his father his unnecessary approval of the wizard.
"I learned so many wonderful things from him!" Legolas smiled broadly, seeing it returned by his father and all at the table.
"Such as?" The king asked curiously, enjoying the exuberance of his youngest. Smiling like a cat with a feather on its lips, Legolas stood, closed his eyes and began to chant.
"Elea faernatie... Darn i'rillma... Darn i'arlinaivae... MIRILYASTO!"
The room exploded in a shower of golden and silver particles. They coated everything, table, food, walls, ceiling... elves. Legolas blinked and looked around at his family and court, all of them only visible in the room of glitterdust by their wide unblinking eyes. The young prince sheepishly scratched his head, sending a shower of sparkles onto the floor.
"Ai... I think, perhaps I am not cut out to be a wizard after all."

The spell had long worn off, the glimmering dust faded away to nothing, before the royal family ceased their vengeful chasing and tickling of their youngest member, all of them forgetting, for at least that moment, the spans of their ages and the dangers that lay outside the castle walls.