The next morning Mertose woke up refreshed and rather happy. He got dressed in a green tunic, a brown belt around his waist, and black pants. Though, he just tied his long blonde hair into a ponytail; he never was good with braids. Quickly Mertose scurried to breakfast where his father and brother were waiting. He sat himself by Thranduil's side, his father giving him a good look.
"What?" Mertose asked him noticing his stares.
Thranduil shook his head.
"Nothing, nothing at all," he replied.
Oh no, Mertose thought, he's doing his "are you looking clean and handsome for someone's daughter?" routine.
Lord Rilten and his daughter were going to be there by the afternoon or early evening, and Mertose knew that throughout the day his dear old dad would be giving him those looks and tips on how to better his appearance and attitude.
Breakfast came and they all ate in silence. Mertose especially tried to avoid eye contact with his father, but it didn't do any good.
"You should sit up straighter," Thranduil commented, "Don't look so glum," he would say, "Did you get enough to eat? I don't want you to be all skin and bones."
They went on and on like this. Mertose would shrug or nod for an answer, every comment and question another weight on his shoulder. Finally, Legolas came to the rescue.
"Father, Mertose and I need to get to the training grounds, may we be excused?"
The two looked at him desperately. Thranduil sighed.
"All right."
They both shot out of their seats, but their father stopped Mertose.
"Mertose!" he turned, "I would like to see you before lunch, so don't stay out there too long." Mertose nodded obediently, and then followed his younger brother out.
The two brothers walked side by side, Mertose looking completely downtrodden.
"Oh Legolas, what am I going to do? I have to undergo an entire three months with this elven maiden. I just can't do it!" he exclaimed, Legolas put his arm around him.
"You'll get through it, you didn't seem to have a problem with all the other elven maidens father forced upon you."
"But they only spent a week or two here but three months!"
"Three months isn't such a long time Mertose."
"It will be with her," he crossed his arms.
"Oh, stop being such a brat. You don't even know her!" Legolas argued giving his big brother a push.
"Humph, you sound like father!" Mertose snapped.
"And you sound like an elfling!" Legolas shot back.
The brothers glared at each other, but then Mertose's face softened and he rubbed his temples.
"I'm sorry Legolas. I'm under a lot of pressure."
"I know that," Legolas said sincerely.
"Thanks for helping me at breakfast."
He smiled at his brother getting one in return.
"I learned from the master of excuses!" Legolas bowed with a grin.
Mertose laughed but then paused to think. Perhaps he was being a little too stubborn. Perhaps this maiden would be different than the others.
"I will try to give this maiden a chance," he proclaimed, "but I will not make any promises."
Legolas nodded his understanding and they headed off to the training grounds again.
Three hours before lunch, Mertose was jostled quickly from the training grounds to his father; who was waiting in his son's chambers. The prince looked around his spotless room; his blue eyes suddenly drawn to his bed, where about eight outfits were sitting. Mertose just groaned.
"Why must I take eternity to get ready, and Legolas must not?" he asked, he knew the answer; Thranduil said it every time he asked.
"Because," he stated, "you are the oldest, and you're the one that needs to make a good impression!"
His father gave Mertose a toothy grin, while his son just sighed and rolled his eyes.
The real answer father, Mertose fumed in his thoughts, is you just want to get me married, so you can get to Legolas sooner! But the prince just bit his tongue, and tried on all eight outfits – a few twice. After trying on one for the third time Mertose finally let go of his tongue.
"Father, I think this one will do fine!" he exclaimed.
He hated the idea of dressing up; it was just very uncomfortable for him. Thranduil sighed then nodded.
"All right Mertose, I guess it will have to do."
He looked at his son up and down. Mertose wore a silver tunic with a light blue braided sash wrapped around his waist and gray pants. Also a sleeveless blue robe went over the outfit. Thranduil's eyes stopped at his hair, which was still only in a ponytail.
"Now, we must do something with your hair," he remarked. Mertose took hold of his long hair, and then said to his father.
"What's wrong with it? I think it looks fine!"
"Fine? Mertose, a warrior like you should wear the proper braids!"
"A warrior like me shouldn't have to be worrying about his hair style!" Mertose argued.
Thranduil sighed; his son was wearing him out.
"Please Mertose, just for tonight! Just for me?" his father pleaded, the prince glared at him, but then sighed placing his face into his hands and nodded.
Mertose sat by his mirror, and started to braid but, eventually, his father ended up styling his hair. Once done he had one braid on either side of his head and another in the back at the center. Thranduil thought his son looked dashing! Mertose on the other hand was just perturbed! A knock came at the door and one of the servants popped his head in saying.
"My lords, lunch is to be served momentarily. Also, I was told that Lord Rilten and his company was spotted, and are being escorted here. They should be here in about a half hour."
The servant bowed and Thranduil gave his thanks as the servant slipped out. The King smiled at his son who smiled back weakly. His father opened the door gesturing for him to go first.
"Come on," he urged.
Mertose got up and walked out, his father close behind as they headed for the dining hall.