Disclaimer: Once again my father's laptop, and still not Tolkien, so I own literally nothing of this.
Thanks to CAH, ShaolinQueen, Escape my reality, triolet, sokkergurl, Lady Ambreanna, ilysia, Silivren Tinu, Baby Dragon, invisigoth3, Carthage, firehottie, RadioactiveSquirrel and TuesdayEvening for the reviews!
Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Calenlass, for comments, suggestions and patience with questions.
Chapter II: A Young Warrior
Estel sat up and groaned in frustration. He had been tossing restlessly for hours, unable to sleep, worrying about his archery training, which was due to begin the next day.
He got out of bed, wrapped himself in a blanket, and slipped out of his room into the long corridor that ran the length of the royal quarters in Thranduil's stronghold. Directly opposite, Legolas' door was shut, with no light gleaming under it. But from what Estel knew of Elves in general and the Prince of the Woodland Realm in particular, Legolas was certainly awake.
He knocked. There was no answer. After a moment's hesitation, he pushed open the door.
The sitting-room was in darkness, but flickering light shone through the half-open bedroom door. Estel went into the bedroom.
It was empty: the bed was still neatly made. The light Estel had noticed came from a lamp that was on the windowsill. Beside it was an open book, pages fluttering in the light breeze. The door leading to the balcony was open, revealing a vista of starry sky.
Deciding that the young Elf probably wanted to be left alone, Estel turned to leave. He was stopped by a voice from the balcony.
"Come, penneth. You are not disturbing me."
Only for a moment, Estel wondered how Legolas had heard him. He was certain that he had made absolutely no noise. Then he gave up, mentally adding another tale to what would later become a treasure-house of anecdotes on how infuriating Elves were, and went out to the balcony.
Legolas was standing in one corner, his back to Estel, clad only in leggings and a light tunic despite the hint of autumn's chill already in the air.
"Why are you awake?" the Elf asked, not turning. Estel padded up to the railing beside him, looking out over the silent forest and the gentle slope of rock beneath them. "You should be getting all the rest you can. Your training begins tomorrow – and when Lord Thorontur says dawn to dusk, he usually means dawn to midnight."
"I could not sleep," Estel confessed.
Legolas looked at him in swift concern.
"Is something wrong? Are you ill? Lord Elrond warned me that illness in Men frequently leads to their being unable to sleep. I think Feredir knows something of mortal medicine – he studied with the healers of Imladris. If –"
"I am well!" Estel said hastily. Then he hesitated. While he had already grown to like Legolas, he did not know the Elven prince as well as he did his brothers, and he did not want his new friend to think him weak or childish. But somehow he found it impossible to lie to the Elf's unblinking blue eyes. "I... I am frightened."
Legolas looked as though he understood. He wrapped an arm around Estel's shoulders in silent sympathy. The young man leaned into it gratefully: in a foreign land, among strange Elves, with his mother and his foster-family several days' ride away, he had felt more alone than ever before in his life. Even Legolas, to whom his brothers had sternly ordered him to go whenever anything was wrong, had seemed unusually alien that day.
"I was terrified," the Elf said quietly. "I had learnt the bow for many years before I began my formal training, of course, but only as a sport. Warrior training seemed so different. I was certain I would fail miserably and be a disappointment to my parents and the Archery Masters and everyone else."
"What happened?"
"It was not as bad as I feared," Legolas replied, smiling. "It was taxing, of course: the Archery Masters were hard, and Lord Thorontur, when he found time to come and oversee our practice, was even harder. There were occasions when I was certain I would never be good enough even to be a simple guard."
"But..." Estel paused, wondering how to explain. What he felt was far more than simple nervousness. "But Elrohir told me that he always knew you were going to be a good archer, and it was only a question of time and practice. And I will never be as skilled as any Elven bowman."
"Is that what is worrying you?"
"Lord Thorontur has never trained a Man before," Estel whispered hoarsely. "I... I do not know if he will think I am not good enough."
"Estel, if Lord Thorontur had objected to Men being archers, he would never have consented to train you in the first place. Not even my father can make him do something if he has set his will against it... You have the makings of a great warrior, penneth."
"Not by the standards of Elves," Estel said with unexpected bitterness.
"If all it took to be a warrior was skill with weapons, you would still be one of the best. That much I can tell already. But it takes far more than that." Legolas paused. "You have never gone... hunting... with Elladan and Elrohir, have you?"
"Hunting Orcs? No. Ada will not let me. He says that it is bad enough that they must do it without my going and watching."
"That is just as well," Legolas muttered, a sudden, steely glint in his eyes. Estel was more than a little surprised: his brothers and Legolas had always seemed to him the best of friends. Then the expression was gone, leaving the young man to wonder whether he had imagined it. "The best warriors are not always those with the keenest eyes and the swiftest reflexes, although those are good qualities to have. They are those who know courage and compassion, and you have ample measure of both."
"That is what Lord Glorfindel always says."
For several minutes they stood in silence. Estel finally broke it.
"Will come with me tomorrow?"
"For your first lesson? I would not miss it for worlds, penneth." The Elf's voice had taken on a mischievous note that the young man had learnt to dread. "I will be there."
"And after that?"
"After tomorrow I will have duties," Legolas said regretfully. "There is nothing I would like better than to see how you and Lord Thorontur get on with each other. But I will come whenever I can. And when I am away, either Saeldur or Aeroniel will be in the stronghold – you met them today. One of us will be there, if only to divert Lord Thorontur when he becomes too... enthusiastic."
"Why is one of you always in the stronghold? Do you not go anywhere together?"
"We try very hard not to."
Normally Estel would not have probed, but something made him ask, "Why not?"
The Elf sighed.
"They are my seconds. After the Watchful Peace ended, when Orcs and spiders began to multiply again... There were some incidents that made us realize how exceedingly undesirable it would be for the archers to be left without a commander. Now, as far as can be managed, one of us always stays in the stronghold."
"Does your father know?"
"He was the one who ordered it." Estel shivered; he could not imagine how difficult it had been for the Elven-king to give that order. Legolas, feeling it, added, "He is far braver than I am. When I became commander of the Colhador, Lord Thorontur and Lord Arbellason practically forced my father to stop going into battle himself unless the need was dire. He protested, but he accepted it in the end. I must confess that I am glad of it: I would be able to concentrate on nothing if I were afraid..."
"I know."
"In any case," Legolas said, his voice taking on a note of forced cheerfulness, "you have no cause for concern, penneth. You have all the makings of one of the greatest warriors and captains of Men. But even if you turn out to be a terrible warrior, it will make no difference to me – or to your brothers, or your mother."
"Legolas?"
"Yes?"
"After tomorrow, when you begin your duties again... Is there... You might... Will you come back?"
Legolas took a step back and looked at the young man very seriously.
"I will do my best, Estel. I will always do my best."
Estel hesitated. The thought of losing his friend as he had, so many years ago, lost his father, was terrible. In his waking hours he could not remember it, but in his nightmares he sometimes saw the flames of houses on fire and heard horses neighing and women screaming and the desperate cries of children.
Then he thought of Lord Elrond, bidding his sons farewell as they rode away to a battle of which he could not even approve; of Thranduil, going about the business of administering his realm while Legolas led the archers in their bloody battles; of his own mother, living far from her kinsfolk and friends and all she knew and loved so that Estel could grow up safe and happy.
"So long as you promise to be careful," Estel said, and was rewarded by a warm, approving smile.
"And now, penneth," Legolas told him with a grin, "you really should be sleeping, but since you are awake, let me instruct you in the one art of the warrior that Thorontur is likely to neglect. You will not get far unless you know how to get in and out without using any of the doors."
Sindarin Translations
Penneth - Young one
Ada - Dad/Daddy
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