The shaft of sunbeam illuminated the walkway before them, as the small elf walked with his mother. "Where are we going?"

The tall elf, with flowing blond hair, and kind blue eyes, smiled at her son. "We're going to the target range, Legolas. I'm going to teach you how to use that bow, that your father gave you."

Legolas smiled, and squeezed her hand. "I can't wait."

They practiced for hours, his mother guiding his hand, teaching him to fire again and again. A small Silvan elf, a little younger than the prince, fetched the arrows from where they landed. "Tauriel, send the cellar keeper to me. I must give him instructions for the feast."

Tauriel hurried off, and Legolas looked excited. "I cannot wait for the feast of starlight, mother."

"Concentrate on your target, Legolas. See, you missed it." His mother knelt beside him, helping him notch the arrow to the bow. "The feast will come soon enough."

That night, at the feast, Legolas thought he had never seen his mother so beautiful. The necklace of white gems laced her neck, and her smile graced the hall like Legolas had never seen it before. All was perfect.

Then the rider came. "My lord Thranduil. I have a message from Lord Elrond."

Thranduil took it, read the message, and gave it to Legolas's mother. "We must go, Lalthienal."

"We must. But after the feast, of course."

So it was that the next day, Legolas saw his mother lacing up her armor, taking her sword, and her bow. When the army set out, she had one parting word for him. "Legolas. Guard the kingdom now, my princeling." Then she was gone. She had been wearing that necklace.

Legolas knew that his parents were only going because Lord Elrond had asked them. What cared they for the struggles of dwarves? 'Twas only Nain and his band that needed aid, near Gundabad. But it was Middle Earth that needed them. Angmar must be defeated.

When the army returned, a week later, Legolas ran to meet his affectionate mother, and aloof father. But something was missing. Thranduil strode past him, not noticing the confused look on his face. Where was his mother? His mother Lalthienal? The army strode past him, not noticing the prince. He ran out of the gates, looking around. There. Lord Elrond was about to leave with his army. Legolas ran to the horse. "Lord Elrond, where is my mother?"

Elrond got off his horse, knelt beside the boy. "I'm sorry, Legolas."

"No." Legolas pulled back. "NO!"

"Your father will not speak of it. The fire-breathers that they had wounded him, and killed her. Some dwarf stole her gems."

"Dwarves." Legolas spat angrily, and cursed briefly in elvish.

Elrond looked surprised, that such a young one should know such fierce words. "Legolas, where did you learn such things? Your mother-"

"My mother isn't hear. And I learned it from the Silvan elves, the guards. They don't know how much I overhear." Legolas kicked a stick along the ground, as he wandered through the woods, after Elrond rode away. "Dwarves. They've ruined my life. I hate them."

When he returned home, later that night, he returned to the target area. He almost left. Tauriel, the little Silvan elf, was throwing knives at the targets. When he came, she stopped. "My Lord Legolas. Shall I fetch your bow?"

"No. I was just leaving." Legolas lied, walking away.

"My Lord Legolas." Tauriel said, "I'm sorry."

Legolas frowned, and left. He swore to himself, though, that he would practice with his bow for hours each day. When he met an orc, or maybe even a dwarf, he would kill it. Maybe, some time, his mother would be avenged. He knew he would hate dwarves. Forever.