The idea behind this story came to me several years ago, when I first heard that The Hobbit was going to be made into a movie. Wouldn't it be funny if Legolas, despite not appearing in the book, was the most important character in the movie? He could kill Smaug, find the Arkenstone and do just about every important job in the book, all while remaining hidden from the company of dwarves. (Un)Fortunately, this didn't really happen- but it could have.

This is meant to be a slightly(not overly) humourous, 'bookverse' story. I have striven to keep this story canon; however, I did take the liberty of giving Legolas two knives, rather than one. Let's just say that, during The Hobbit, he had two knives, and lost the other before Fellowship, or perhaps changed his fighting style. Please let me know if I've made any errors regarding canon. Despite consulting The Hobbit and the appendix of The Return of the King constantly, I'm sure that I've made a few mistakes. Thank you.

Prologue: An Adventure

It was so many years ago. Of course, time passes more swiftly for the Eldar than for mortals. Nonetheless, it was long ago when my adventures began.

I was a young elf, nearly one millenium old. I was excited, as it was my one-thousandth birthday that year. I fancied myself quite the grown-up, and begged my father, the king of Mirkwood, the privilege of going to Lake-Town, to settle trade negotiations there. The mighty King Thranduil, however, was not thrilled with my suggestion.

"Mirkwood is dangerous enough," he solemnly sniffed, staring from his throne down towards my hopeful face. "You've been bitten by spiders and crushed by falling trees more times than I can count. What makes you think that I would trust you to journey outside the forest?"

I cried. I moaned. I did everything that I could think of to make my father change his mind- but to no avail. The king was resolute in his decision, and not even I, his only son, could sway him.

That night, as I lay in bed, questions floated through my mind, bouncing through my head and resonating whenever they hit on an important point.

"Why won't he let me go? I'm an adult now."

"Well, you are the prince," my conscience reminded me. "The king likely worries about his only son. You cause him a great deal of anxiety. Also, remember that, while you are an adult, your father is thousands of years older than you. He doesn't remember what it is like to be your age."

My inner thoughts rang true, and I knew it. My father had taken my mother's death very hard, and I suppose that I was the only evidence that remained to him of her existence. Whenever I went into the forest, my father would not rest until I had returned safely. This may seem like paranoia on his part, but, having suffered my own losses in the war of the Ring, I can see how my father suffered. The Elvenking of Mirkwood well understood the wise words "the heart breaks that loves a child".

In my selfish youth, however, I cared little for the worries of others. I thought only of myself- my need for glory and fame. At that moment, in the dead of night, I made up my mind: I was going to run away, to find my own Adventure. No one could stop me. I would go where I pleased.

With that thought, I stole down into the palace cellar. This was where our provisions were stored. I filled a sack with lembas, then set about finding other supplies, such as rope and healing herbs. Once this task was done, I swathed myself in a cloak, equipping myself with my hunting knives, my bow, and my quiver of arrows.

As I climbed over the gates of the Mirkwood palace, I stole a glance in the direction of my father's bedroom. I could imagine the horror that would fill his fair face when he awakened and discovered my absence. At that moment, however, I didn't care. All that I thought about was mt Adventure. It was only a matter of getting out of Mirkwood; then I would be well on my way. I didn't expect any trouble whatsoever. I knew Mirkwood like I knew the inside of the palace.

. . . . . . .

Evidently, I didn't know the inside of the palace very well. Truth be told, I had never ventured more than a few hours' distance, so afraid had I been of my father's wrath, and the further away I went, the more unsure of myself I became. The stars, which I loved so dearly, were barely visible beyond the thick canopy of leaves above me. The trees, which, near my home, had seemed good and friendly to me, appeared twisted and evil, roots reaching for my feet, attempting to trip me with every step I took.

Several hours passed. I no longer pretended that I was anything other than completely lost. Yet still I tried to save face.

"If my adar had let me explore Mirkwood earlier, I wouldn't be lost now! He likely didn't even have a valid reason to keep me from exploring. He probably just enjoys sassing back..."

I continued to ramble in a like manner as I stumbled deeper and deeper into the depths of the forest. "Surely it must be morning by now," I muttered. Suddenly, I realized. My father would awake, see my absence, and, not merely content with waiting for me to return of my own accord, would immediately send search parties to scour the greenwood. An infantile panic overtook my senses. I had to get away! Now I ran, disregarding the tree roots which I had earlier taken great pains to avoid. This, however, was an unwise action. One gnarled oak seemed to carry a grudge for me. Its long, twisted root reached out across my path. Inevitably, I tripped over it.

I continued onwards at the same velocity as before, now somersaulting rather than running. My head came over my heels seven times before I flew over a bank, landing flat on my back with a less than graceful thud on the muddy ground, my eyes closing upon impact.

"Are you alright, princeling?" I opened my eyes, only to find myself staring into the face of the venerable-

"Mithrandir," I whispered in astonishment.

"Of all the elves that I have ever known, Legolas Greenleaf," said the wizard, shaking his head in amazement, "you are the clumsiest."

I had not seen Gandalf the Grey, or Mithrandir, as the elves called him, for centuries. He did not often visit the palace of Mirkwood, although he was lavishly welcomed whenever he came. To see him now, in some uninhabited corner of Mirkwood, naturally came as something of a surprise to me.

The wizard stooped down, extending a hand towards me to help me stand. "Are you much hurt?" he asked kindly.

"I am not injured," I muttered, very much embarrassed that the great wizard Mithrandir had witnessed my unfortunate tumble.

Gandalf nodded. "I am glad. But tell me, child. Why does the prince stray so far from his castle?"

A sigh escaped my lips before I could prevent it. "Well, I'm actually trying to go on an Adventure. My father wouldn't let me go to Lake-Town, so I was attempting to go on an Adventure of my own."

"So, you have run away."

I flushed. "I had a valid reason. My father would sooner let me rot in his dungeon than let me have the least bit of fun. I want to do something worthwhile!"

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "Oh? What, precisely, did you have planned?"

"Well- nothing precisely..." I stuttered. "I suppose that I was just going to search until I found something to do."

"You would cause your father grief for a bit of fun?" asked the wizard.

Shame flooded through me upon hearing the grey wizard's words. Regardless, I attempted one last retort. "Would you have me sit idly upon a throne, like my father, while there is good to be done in this world?"

"Do not be a fool, Legolas Greenleaf," Mithrandir sternly replied. "Your father has been through more than your young mind can comprehend. However," he began, thoughtfully stroking his beard, "you are correct in that there is good to be done in this world. Many people have been displaced from their homes. Men who were once prosperous now scrounge for food. Princes, like yourself, are forced to become blacksmiths and toy-makers in order to make a living. Follow me, son of Thranduil, and I will explain further."

I followed the grey wizard through the forest. Surprisingly, he seemed to know exactly where he was going, whereas I was confused beyond belief.

"Surely, you have heard of The King Under the Mountain," Gandalf stated.

"Yes, of course," I replied. "He was driven out of the dwarven kingdom of Erebor years ago by the great worm, Smaug."

"Yes," nodded the wizard. "Thrain, the King Under the Mountain, and his son Thror and grandson Thorin escaped the dragon's wrath, along with a small, rag-tag band of other dwarves. Of the three sons of Durin, only one is still alive- the youngest, Thorin. He seeks to regain his throne- and rightfully so. It has been far too long since a dwarven king sat upon the throne of the Lonely Mountain."

Now, I did not like the sound of that. I had always been taught that dwarves were cunning, devious creatures. By no means did the elves of Mirkwood rejoice when they heard tell of the misfortune of the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, but they comfoted themselves, saying that it was all for the best. After all, the surviving dwarves would no longer gloat over their vast riches; they would now have to earn a living like honest folk.

"What has this to do with me?" I asked.

"Well, you said that you wish to do some good. Now, my boy, I am giving you a splendid opportunity. A band of thirteen dwarves, which includes the dwarven prince, are setting out from Hobbiton, in the Shire, to reclaim their homeland. They are in need of a fourteenth member- a Lucky Number, so to speak."

"You expect me to become member of their company?" I sputtered, furious that Gandalf would dare to even suggest such an outrageous plan. "My dear Gandalf. I would never even dream of sharing hardships with a company of dwarves. What a concept! The idea is absurd."

"You are too impetuous for your own good," scoffed the wizard. "By no means did I intend for you to be the Lucky Number. For one thing, I already have Burglar lined up for the job. For another, I don't believe that the dwarves would take kindly to an elf in their company. Dwarves, you must understand, are not over-fond of elves."

"Yes I know," I replied. "What, then, would you have me do?"

"I would have you follow the company. Keep an eye on them. An elf who is decently skilled with the bow is a useful addition to any party, and an elf who is remarkably skilled is that much more useful."

I thought over these words. It was true that this Adventure would do good. Nobody deserved to lose their home- not even a dwarf. This Adventure was, indeed better than any that I had thought of. I still was not completely certain, however- until I realized how furious my father would be at the reason for this particular quest. He held a strangely deep grudge against dwarves. At that thought, I made up my mind.

"Mithrandir, I accept your offer," I pronounced.

"Good," replied the wizard. "Perfect timing, too."

For we had cleared the forest, the forest of Mirkwood, which I had never before left. For a moment, I simply stared, amazed at the difference between the thick, leafy forest within which I had always dwelt and the sparse, rocky landscape which now lay before me. Then I sighed.

"I suppose that we shall have to travel all the way to the Shire now? That is a fair distance."

"Yes, we must," said Mithrandir. "But not, perhaps, by the mode you imagine."

To my surprise, with those words, an eagle swooped downwards. He landed both gracefully and majestically, great wings spreading wide. He cocked his head to one side, his bright eyes staring into mine.

"This is one of my friends, a noble eagle from the eyrie of the Lord of All Eagles himself." explained Mithrandir. "He will take us to the Shire. Climb aboard, princeling."

And with that, I found myself on the back of an eagle, flying away from the only home that I had ever known. I was embarking upon an Adventure perilous- one that I would never forget.