Title: "The Armour of Kings"
Author: LegolasLover2003 aka Ashley
Category: Book - "The Lord of the Rings"
Genre: General
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to "The Lord of the Rings". I just adore it to pieces. Legede and Morolas are characters of my own invention however. You may use them, but please ask permission to do so first.
Note: I started working on this story in December 2012 and finally finished it today hehehe.

Sun filtering in through the thin curtains was the first thing that Legolas was fully aware of. His blue eyes blinked, the waking dreams of Elven kind disappearing from before his gaze to be replaced with a clear vision of an early morning. For surely it was early... the sun had barely even risen and the whole of Rivendell still seemed as if it were shrouded in a pre-dawn darkness... a stillness that clung to the air like fog. Rising from bed, the Mirkwood Prince was glad to find that no one else seemed to have woken just yet and he stood, barefoot on the terrace which overlooked the glen to the west. The twins always found their friend in better spirits when he could see the wilderness from his bedroom window. Of course neither son of Elrond truly could understand...
The trees were sacred to Silvan Elves, and Legolas respected their whispers just like any of his kin would.
So, finding himself in the silence of the valley, the son of Thranduil listened closely to the voices of the wood, felt their warmth and joy for the Elves which lived in their midst. They spoke not of war or battles nor of evil creatures such as Orcs and Goblins. They were at peace... and their kind words helped to put the Prince's heart at ease as well.
In the early morning hours, Legolas sat down at a fine desk of carved oak. He took up quill and parchment and carefully began to pen a letter home. Already the prince had spent a fortnight in Imladris, and while that was hardly uncommon for Legolas... it was a rarity for him to pen a letter for delivery to the Elvenking's Halls.
Then again... the day before had not exactly been... common...

Oranar, the 23rd day of Iavas, 2936

Legede,

Long has it been that I have thought to write home. Usually I simply return and speak of tidings from Imladris in person. But as of late, I find myself enjoying the company of the Noldor whose day to day lives differ so much from our own. Learning of the world is certainly a priority... but I must confess that the twin sons of Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, have both made my stay all the more enjoyable. Of course I failed to mention that I arrived during what seemed to be a small crisis of sorts, and that the Lord of Imladris was abroad with his sons, as well as Lord Glorfindel and a hunting party. It seems that Orcs have been stalking the lower reaches of the Ford, picking off any bird or beast which came within their foul sight. I had been told by Erestor, that the excursion would have lasted for no more than two or three days, and so for a time I sat under the boughs of Imladris' groves with a sad heart, for I could not join them in their hunt. Yet there was one who took to me strangely in my time beneath the trees, a child of Imladris that did not quite understand my different manner of dress nor the accent of my words. I must confess I have become quite taken with this boy, for he reminded me of myself... and of a day when a frightened princeling hid behind his own bed when first he laid eyes on his father's blood stained armor. It seems, my friend, that I have taken to your role of wise counselor to calm a child's fears. Such a recalling must have sparked memories of old within my mind, for last night I dreamt of adar and his armor. He was sitting tall atop Malthenras, his beloved Elken steed on that horrible day one în and twenty-two loa ago... as the dragon ravaged the east before our very eyes. I remember seeing adar, his robes fluttering in the hot breeze, the armor beneath glinting in the light of the fading day. I can still see the crown of birch atop his head, can still smell the smoke and the acrid stench of sulfur as Erebor was lost to the Dwarf Lords and the people of Dale fled for their lives. It was the first time I saw true horror beyond the boarders of our realm... and the first time I realized that I wanted to know more about this world. Elladan and Elrohir think my curiosity of the world is something akin to that of a human and not an Elven Prince... I smile to think that I amuse them still, even though we have known one another for years. Am I so different from the Noldor, Legede? Are we not all children of Ilúvatar? Even now I still see the differences in our two lines. I am Sindar... Silvan... yet another reason I see myself in the child who calls the Halls of Imladris home. He is as different to them as I myself am.
There is still much for me to learn of this world... Please, let adar know I am safe and well and that I will be returning home before the Firith.

Legolas

THE ARMOUR

OF KINGS

"You sleep funny too."
One thin eyebrow arched and blue eyes blinked as wakefulness came over Legolas at the sound of a small voice. He immediately saw the boy, no more than five human years old, hovering over him, his nose only an inch or so from the Elf's own.
"And just how is it funny?" the prince asked, moving as if to sit.
Luckily, the child scampered off of him and sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at archer through a mop of unruly curled brown hair. "Because you sleep like Ro and El do... it's funny." the boy spoke, cocking his head slightly as he watched the blond Elf.
For his part, Legolas sighed and sat up fully, drawing his legs to him to sit cross-legged on the bed, the sheets pulled up to his waist. "Humans, I suppose, do not sleep with their eyes open? I have never had the pleasure of seeing one of your kind sleep so I can not say if this is the only difference." the archer replied, arms crossed over his chest. "Why are you waking me, Estel?"
The boy smiled, "Ada is coming home today! Erestor said they'd be here before midday."
"Ah... if they sent word ahead then everything must have gone well... otherwise I assume the halls would be in a panic." Legolas spoke, nudging the small human with his foot as a silent signal to get him to move.
Estel quickly hopped off the bed and out of the way, letting the blond Elf stand. Grey eyes watched as Legolas' silver sleeping tunic rustled around the prince's knees. He cocked his head to the side again before laughing softly. At a look from the prince, Estel explained himself.
"Your tunic's like river pebbles. It sparkles and moves when you do." the boy pipped up, touching the fabric with one hand. "Doesn't feel like pebbles though."
Another eyebrow arch headed the child's way and Legolas sighed. "It is silk, if you must know. Honestly... have you never seen bed clothes before?"
"Not ones THAT color. It's different."
Smirking, the blond leaned forward, eye to eye with Estel. "I think it looks like your eyes. Estel Grey. I think I shall rename this shade after you." Legolas poked the boy on the nose then stood straight, heading over to a dressing table of elm and pouring fresh water into a nearby basin. Taking up a nearby fluffy white towel, he began to was his face and neck, one hand keeping his hair out of the way.
Least til there was a tug at the back of his head.
Spinning around, blue eyes locked on the boy... who had just yanked on his hair.
"Why's it like that?" Estel asked with wide curious eyes. "Glorfindel does that too but he wouldn't tell me why."
For a moment, Legolas fought the instinct to just pinch the bridge of his nose and ignore the child. This boy was full of questions. Course... that was hardly much different than he himself... was it? "It is a warrior's braid. Most Elven males have them, least those that see battle and protect their homelands. The purpose is to keep the hair around your face out of your eyes when fighting."
At first it seemed that what the prince said went in one ear and out the other, but eventually Estel smiled and pulled his own hair. "I want one."
Legolas could not stop the smile on his lips. "You are not old enough for one. Perhaps when you come of age? Of course your hair will need to be much much longer, Estel." he spoke, finishing at the wash basin and walking over to lay out his clothes. Blue eyes glanced at the child, "Can you at least give me peace while I dress?" the prince asked.
Sighing in mock exasperation, Estel threw his hands up in the air. "I guess... but can I sit with you at breakfast? I've got..."
"More questions? Yes... I know and yes you can. Go see if Erestor or Lindir is in need of your help." the archer spoke with that same smile, quite literally pushing the child out the door.

"May I ask how your father has been these past years?" Lindir spoke up from the breakfast table as he poured Estel some freshly squeezed juice. "It has been some time since the Elvenking left his Halls. I was beginning to worry."
Smirking, Legolas tore off a small piece of bread for himself from a much larger loaf. "Afraid that you would never learn the tales of your Woodland kin?" he teased the bard. "I fear, Lindir, that my father travels little these days. After all, why make a kingdom of stone and then leave it? Much safer to remain within I would say."
This drew Estel's attention and the boy popped up onto his knees in the seat, making himself taller at the same time. "Like Dwarves? They used to have lots of kingdoms of stone."
The only irritation from the Mirkwood prince, at least the only visible sign of such, was one raised eyebrow. Lindir could not help but pale slightly, though before he could correct the child... Erestor luckily, came to the boy's rescue.
"Elves are not Naugrim, Estel. They do not delve the mountains nor make them their home. I prefer..." Erestor could not suppress the amused smirk on his lips. "To think of our Woodland kin as Periannath, as Halflings rather than Naugrim."
Laughter came from Legolas then and he took up his goblet, "Well said. And I suppose I can not argue that point except to say that we of Mirkwood do not... have hairy feet nor are we the height of young Estel here." smiling, he turned his blue gaze on the child. "My father's people live beneath the earth, that is true. But we are ever a part of nature, like any Elf. Do you know what the trees told me this morning?"
"Trees don't talk." Estel laughed, screwing up his face at the mere thought of talking trees.
But the Elf shook is head, "That is where you are wrong, my young friend. The Noldor and the Sindar can not hear the trees speak as the Silvan can. They may understand bits and pieces of the words upon the wind... but I can strike up a conversation with a tree any time I please, if the tree would allow."
Lindir smiled, turning Estel's attention to him, "Legolas is half Silvan and half Sindar, for his father hails from the long ago kingdom of Doriath. Seems he inherited the best of both worlds, hmm?"
"The best? Perhaps..." Legolas smiled slightly, thinking over the words. "I have learned the way of war from my father... and the ability to commune with nature from my mother. Though, I suppose to you of the Noldor, my ways must seem quaint."
Erestor shook his head, "Nay, Legolas. Your ways seem different. Unless of course you are indeed accepting the idea of Mirkwood Elves being Periannath... in which case I would have to put it as 'quaint'... yes."
Laughing, the prince looked back to the boy who seemed very much at a loss in the conversation and was, instead, staring at Legolas as if he had a question on his lips but had yet to figure out how to properly phrase it.
The archer then glanced to Lindir, "You should visit my father's halls some day. Truly. I know a few who would be quite happy to tell you our stories."
"Ah... but therein lies the rub, Legolas." Lindir replied, pointing at the prince. "I am no fool. Your father holds no love for the Noldor. Is my singing so out of tune that you would wish me locked away in Mirkwood's dungeons?"
Again Legolas could not help but laugh. Of course what Lindir said was true to a certain extent. The Elves of Mirkwood held no love of those who went to battle under the banner of Gil-Galad nor of those who would have claimed him their lord when he still walked the world. In fact, it was only from Legolas' continued and persistent arguments and persuasions that the Elvenking had allowed his son to travel from the borders of their land. After all, these were troubling times to say the least and Thranduil was none too pleased that his heir was 'cavorting', as his father had once put it, with Elves of that 'ilk'. To the prince however, Noldor Elves seemed quite like his own kin, and while their histories were certainly divergent... they were all just and right and true peoples who had fought many battles over countless long years, only to see the world a better place than it had been before. Sometimes Legolas wondered if his father's distrust and obvious disdain for the Naugrim was as foolhardy and just as tainted with the pains of old as the grudge he still bared for the Noldor. Both had wronged his father... his grandfather even... in the past. But the prince was not his father nor was he Oropher... and Legolas had set out to see the world so that he, with his own blue eyes, could confirm the way of it for himself.
"I think you may have broken him, Lindir." Erestor's voice drifted across the table, drawing the prince out of his thoughts.
Legolas smiled, "Ah, not quite broken... merely distracted. What was I talking about again?"
As both Lindir and Erestor shared a laugh, Estel suddenly spoke up. "You were talking about... well... talking trees."
"Indeed I was." the archer pointed a finger at Estel. "The trees here in Imladris are quite talkative really. They must ache for a conversation." he spoke, winking at the other Elves seated at the table.
Still however, it seemed that the boy did not trust the prince's words. "Well then... what did they say?"
"Say? Ah yes, well they said that your brothers killed eighteen Orcs amongst themselves alone and received not even a scratch." Legolas replied, winking at the child. "That Lord Elrond himself even toasted to their deeds before the return journey home." and then it seemed, for a few moments, that the prince was listening to something. His eyes gazed off into the trees beyond the courtyard, then narrowed... the Elf's head cocked slightly to the side. Then Legolas smiled, looking back to the small child. "The hunting party has returned."
Both Erestor and Lindir were wise not to question the prince's words and instead, they stood from the breakfast table, hastening toward the courtyard to meet the Lord of Imladris. Legolas too stood and, for a moment, thought to go after them. He stopped, turning to the boy who remained behind.
"Come, Estel." the prince spoke softly, holding a hand out for the child. "They will be most happy to see you." he smiled.
The human's small hand reached out, taking Legolas' own, his short legs matching the Elf's longer strides as they walked through the halls and down the steps. Of course the Mirkwood Elf had slowed his own pace, knowing that the child would never be able to keep up. Once they reached the courtyard, the sound of hooves could be heard and, from around the bend and over the bridge, came the Lords of Imladris, their victory evident by the smiles on the faces of Elrond's twin sons.
But the hand within Legolas' own tightened it's grip and the small body beside his drew closer and for a moment, the Elf worried about the boy. At least until voices drew his attention.
"Legolas! You have come to visit!" Elrohir shouted, hoping down from his horse and crossing the courtyard. He reached out, clasping the prince's arm in greeting.
Beside him came his twin, "Nice to see you leave your hole every once in a while." Elladan teased before his dark eyes beheld the child who clung to Legolas' leggings, half hidden behind the prince. "Estel?" the elder twin spoke in surprise.
Elrohir too thought it odd, "Seems someone has taken a liking to the princeling." he joked, to which Legolas promptly rolled his eyes. "But... Estel come out. Honestly, we want to see if you have grown in the few days we have been away."
For a few seconds it seemed as if Estel would abide by the wishes of his brothers. But his grey eyes were suddenly drawn to the figure sitting tall atop his horse. Elrond dismounted, walking toward his sons and guest... but Estel only clung tighter to Legolas, his gaze wide in horror and transfixed on the Elf Lord before him. Blood, both red and black, tarnished Elrond's dark armour. While there was no hurt nor wound upon the Noldor Elf... it was more than apparent that battle had been fought and victory, seemingly won.
At first, Elrond took no notice of Estel, and instead addressed his guest. "Legolas Thranduilion... it has been some time since your company graced my halls. I hope you did not wait long for the return of my sons?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, knowing full well that the Mirkwood archer delighted in the company of the twins.
"I have only been here for a few days, Lord Elrond. By the look of things, your battle went well? Would that I had arrived earlier to aid in your hunt." Legolas replied with a slight bow to the elder Elf. "I had thought however, that you fancied golden armour?"
At this, the Lord of Imladris laughed, "Yes well, gold stands out a bit too much in the wilds of late, I fear." he spoke, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I decided to take a page from our Woodland kin and... fashion something a bit more concealing."
Legolas laughed, "Brown suits you." the prince turned slightly, looking down to the child at his side. "Estel?"
The boy was still staring up at Elrond with large eyes. When the Elf Lord reached one hand out to greet the child however... the human bolted, dashing back into the safety of Imladris and up the stairs into it's halls.
For a moment, Elrond stood in shock. He had never expected such a reaction from the sweet child who would gladly jump into one's open arms if given half the chance. The Noldor Elf moved to follow his youngest, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"My lord... if I may?" Legolas spoke softly, inclining his head in the direction that the boy had run. "Estel has never seen you return from battle... has he?"
Elrond shook his head, "No... it has been some time since Orcs crossed our boarders. But I hardly think..."
And yet the prince smiled. "I did the same thing as an Elfling... when I first saw my father return from battle." one lithe hand indicated the Orc blood upon both of Elrond's vambraces. "Let us just hope he is not hiding beneath his bed as I did, for it might be a tight and uncomfortable squeeze for a conversation."

Legolas had found himself in the young boy's room once before during his stay in the Last Homely House. At the time of course it was because poor Estel had been sent to bed without supper the first night after the prince's arrival. He had argued with Erestor and refused to come in doors for bed, instead suggesting that he would stay in one of the high trees out in the courtyard to 'look out' for his brothers. Of course the twins were not yet on their way home, for that very night the hunting party had been cleaning Orc blood from their blades and had yet to begin the journey home... but the argument landed the boy in trouble and Legolas had felt pity for the child.
It was hard to watch and to wait... to hope for the safe return of those you loved.
However Estel was not exactly in bed at the time when the prince came upon him... he was actually standing on the balcony, peering into the darkness, his tiny arms barely resting on the railing and his chin on the backs of his hands. It... was a strangely familiar sight to the archer. He had done the same thing countless times, waiting for his father or Morolas or Legede to return.
This time however, Estel was nowhere to be seen. Booted feet stepped silently across the floor, making not a sound as the prince came to stand beside the bed. He put his hands on his hips and gave a slightly exasperated sigh.
"I suppose Estel is not here either... I have searched every room but this. Surely he is too big to fit beneath the bed and he is far too brave a boy for hiding." Legolas spoke, as if to himself.
Of course the Elf knew that the child was under the bed for he had heard a slight scuffling upon opening the door. He went silent for a few moments, listening to the only sound in the room... the soft breathing of the hiding boy.
Legolas walked past the bed to stare out the closed balcony doors. Light was filtering in through the curtains, and with one gentle push the doors parted and fresh air wafted into the room. It lifted the prince's golden hair, but the Elf paused.
A soft sound issued from the other side of the bed. "There was blood..."
The words were so gentle, so whispered, that even an Elf would have had a problem hearing them. Turning, Legolas' blue eyes lighted on Estel, for the boy was on the other side of the bed, just barely peeking over the coverlet's edge with grey eyes that held fear deep in their depths.
"This world is not so kind, dear Estel." Legolas spoke, walking slowly over to sit on the opposite side of the bed.
He reached a hand out to the child, bidding him to come and sit beside him. At first, the boy was hesitant... but then small fingers took the prince's own, grasping them tightly as he climbed up atop the bed and seated himself at Legolas' side. Instead of looking at the Elf however, Estel kept a firm hold on the archer's fingers, holding that hand in his own small lap and studying it absently.
"When I was young," Legolas began, knowing that perhaps the best way to get the child to understand, was through a story of his own personal experience with such a gruesome sight. "My father returned from a hunting trip that had fallen under attack by a band of goblins and wargs. I remember running through his halls, sliding to a sudden stop when I saw him. His crown of silver birch and autumn leaves was pristine as always... but his armour, Estel... his silver armour was marred by the black gore of goblins... and the deep red blood of our own people. Many of those who had ridden out with him only the day before did not return and there was no rejoicing over the hunt in the Elvenking's halls that day."
Grey eyes looked up at the Elf, "What did you do?" the boy asked, obviously understanding that such a thing had hurt his new friend in the past.
"I fled." Legolas replied with a sad smile. "My father found me, hiding under my own bed, much as you were just now. He had removed his armor and was once more clad in robes of silver and burgundy. Adar took me up into his arms and held me close and for a long time I simply gripped him tightly and cried, for I knew not what else to do. When I had calmed down, he asked what had frightened me... so I told him that it had been the sight of his armour stained by blood. I explained that I had been afraid he was hurt too, that some of that blood may be his own, and that I was afraid he might die. I believe my father had never once thought about what that sight might bring to my mind as an Elfling, for our people have lived in the shadow of evil for a very long time. It was not on purpose that he frightened me so... for that is the hard way of the world, Estel. We must fight to live... to make every day matter more than the last. My father is a king. Just as Elrond is lord of this realm so too does my father rule a great many people. He must keep them safe. The people look to their lord for protection. Sometimes, that protection means that those we love must fight... and we must pray that they return unscathed if evil sets upon them. Your brothers as well as Lord Elrond... are well and unharmed. The blood upon their armour was that of their enemies. A great victory indeed, Estel."
By the time Legolas had finished speaking, the small boy was sitting on the Elf's lap, looking up at him silently for the longest of moments. Then, Estel finally spoke, a small smile finding it's way onto the child's face. "I didn't think Elves were scared of anything."
The prince blinked, startled by the response at first, before suddenly finding that he was chuckling at the notion. "Of course we fear, tithen pen. The trick, Estel, is to not let that fear rule you. We must sometimes face what frightens us with every ounce of courage we can muster."
"Is ada angry that I ran away?"
"No... he simply did not understand. You must remember... it has been many long years since your brothers were Elflings. I think, perhaps, Lord Elrond was startled by your response, but he is most certainly not angry. If anything, he worries for you." Legolas replied, lifting the boy into his arms with a gentle smile. "Now... surely they have changed into something more befitting of home than armour... would you like to go and greet them properly, Estel?"
Wiggling free of the prince's arms, the small boy nodded and scampered across the floor and out the door. For a time Legolas stood, burning the image of the child dashing off and rounding the corner into his memory.
Would one day he have a son or daughter of his own? Would they fear the return of their father, bloodied after a brutal battle? Or, perhaps, would it be the archer's fate to sire children in an age without war?
Yes... the prince felt he would much rather see the happy smiles of Elflings than the teary eyes of such small ones who were merely trying to comprehend the harsh reality within which they lived.
Mirkwood would not be the Taur-nu-Fuin forever... of that Legolas was certain. One day... one long awaited day... the sun would rise on a peaceful morning for his people and he looked forward to the smiles of the little ones who could grow in a new world, spared from the darkness and the shadows that he himself had only ever known.
"ESTEL!" came Elladan's panicked shout and there was a sudden crash, as if a vase... or perhaps a wash basin full of water, had fallen and shattered upon the floor.
Legolas smiled, laughing to himself as he shook his head. With one last glance at the sun's rays filtering in through the curtains, the prince headed off in the direction he was certain that the small human had dashed. The Mirkwood Elf knew not what he might find when he arrived at the shared rooms of the twin sons of Elrond, but he did know one thing...
Legolas had truly made a friend for the ages in a small human boy full of questions, who was not so different from the Elfling Prince who had scampered about the halls of the Elvenking in what seemed a lifetime ago.

THE END

TRANSLATION NOTES:

Oranar = Sunday
Iavas = Fall
Adar = Father
Malthenras = Golden Horn
One în and twenty-two loa ago = 166 years ago (1 în = 144 years) in reference to year 2770
Loa = 1 year (22 loa = 22 years)
Firith = Fading (time between Fall and Winter)
Ada = Father
Periannath = Halflings
Naugrim = Dwarves
Tithen pen = Little one
Taur-nu-Fuin = Forest under the Nightshade

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

-Okay so it was mentioned somewhere online that Thranduil's mount in the movie "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" was an Irish Elk so... THRANDUIL RIDES A ELK. And I swear to the Valar if I type "Elf" one more time instead of "Elk" in this Author's Note, I'm gonna bash my head against the wall, hehehe.
-Please note that this story is taking place in 2936 of the Third Age (T.A.). Aragorn was born in 2931 T.A. and was taken to Imladris in 2933 T.A. which means that at the time of this story, Aragorn is only five years old. Also please take into account that the Desolation of Smaug occurred in 2770 T.A. which would mean that 166 years have passed (as aforementioned) since Thranduil and his armies turned from the Dwarves of Erebor and fled back into the Mirkwood. What Legolas remembers is the Desolation of Smaug and, therefore, is NOT the Battle of the Five Armies, which isn't set to begin until 2941 T.A. (when Aragorn is already 10 years old).
-Also please note that I adhere to knowledge I possess of Oropher and of Thranduil prior to "The Hobbit" trilogy wherein I feel that both lived in Thingol's halls for a time. Thus Thranduil's true hatred of Dwarves stems from the murder of Thingol (for the Silmaril) and the destruction of Doriath thereafter. Obviously Thranduil must feel that Dwarven greed is a thing to be despised as well, though it leads one to wonder then why Thranduil himself is such a lover of gold and jewels as well (which actually I would attribute to Thingol's own nature too). I would also like to note that one of Thranduil's reasons for dislike of the Noldor comes from the Last Alliance wherein Oropher and his army charged to battle before Gil-Galad gave the call and the Elves of Mirkwood were greatly decimated. Obviously both sides are at fault here (Oropher for charging and Gil-Galad for not coming to their aid) but Thranduil's a stubborn Elf. -wink- Another easy reason for his dislike of the Noldor is that they began to encroach upon the Greenwood and thus Oropher pulled his people back, farther to the north, until at last his people were moving north not to get away from the Noldor or the Dwarves, but to distance themselves from the darkness of the Necromancer (Sauron).
-As a side note, I believe that the "merging with the Silvan Elves" reference, which is from Tolkien, is quite literal, especially given that Legolas calls himself a Silvan Elf. Thus, while I do not name Legolas' mother (I have not named her to this point and right now have no intention of ever doing so either), I firmly believe that she would have been an Elf of Silvan descent. What better way to merge two peoples than with a marriage?
-Originally, there was only going to be Lindir and there was no breakfast scene. But then I was reading fanfiction the other day and kept seeing Erestor and my brain was picking and picking at me to remember if that was a real character. So, when in doubt, I went back to Tolkien and sure enough he was. But I liked Lindir in "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" because who doesn't like Figwit?! So I wanted him to remain in this story and thus having Erestor and Lindir both was born... and somewhere along the way came a slightly amusing breakfast scene.
-Please note that the Taur-nu-Fuin that I'm speaking of is the Elvish name for Mirkwood at the time. I'm referring to the period of time when the Necromancer step up Dol Goldur in the Third Age and not Sauron's actions in Dorthonion in the First Age.
-Also, "armour" is spelled in English fashion and not in the American fashion of "armor". The same goes for "grey" versus "gray". There are just some words I prefer their British English spellings for, especially when dealing with LOTR.

MUSE MOMENTS:

"Are you sure she won't get mad?"
Legolas smirked at Paris before pointing to Nil who is in the kitchen, getting food put out for Thanksgiving. "She is frightened of my father so, naturally, since he is coming for this Thanksgiving thing... Nileregwen will not dare to cross me right now."
"But she worked hard on that pie..." Paris replied, glancing into the kitchen. "Surely..."
"I hear you both." Nil spoke up, turning and glaring at the duo.
Paris paled and stood tall, "I... well that is to say..."
While Nil's attention was on the Trojan Prince... a certain Mirkwood Prince had snuck past her and snatched the cherry pie from the table. He dashed out of the kitchen... a very surprised Nileregwen standing there staring after him.
Paris just smiled, then turned and bolted.
"LEGOLAS!" Nil shouted, giving chase.
"YOU WILL DO NOTHING FOR MY FATHER WILL BE HERE SOON!" the archer shouted back as he went out the door.
Nil stopped in her tracks, glanced at the clock, and cursed. Realizing the Elf was right, she went back into the kitchen.
Outside, Legolas was happily enjoying the pie with Paris. "I told you she fears him."
"Fears who?"
Blinking in surprise, the prince looked up to see Thranduil standing there.
"You."
"Who?"
"Nileregwen."
"Ah..." Thranduil quirked an eyebrow at his son. "And you stole her pie?"
"Of course."
"I should scold you for stealing but..." Thranduil sat down beside his son and Paris. "Pass me a piece first."

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, MELLYRN NIN!