Disclaimer: I don't own Mirkwood. Bummer. Or Legolas. Double bummer.
Raunien stumbled as he carried the stack of books in to the library, dropping the books all over the place. The young Elf winced as a muscle spasm lanced through his slightly twisted right leg. That leg had bothered him his entire life. He had been born with it. Darn it, he thought. Why does always have to happen at the most inconvenient time? He had been trying to prove to everyone that he would be able to take the journey to Imladris with Prince Legolas. He had been turned down.
Raunien sighed and began to pick up the books. Why, why, why had Naneth sailed when she did? His Ada had been killed in the Battle of Five Armies long ago, when Raunien was quite small. His Naneth had sailed to Valinor soon after, leaving her small son in Mirkwood. The young Elf had grown up an orphan in the Halls of Thranduil, king of Mirkwood. When he was old enough, Raunien had been apprenticed to the Lore-Master, since he had been deemed unable to be proficient at any other job.
It made him mad. No one had given him a chance! He was actually quite good with a sword. Raunien had been a good student in school, turning in assignments on time and studying well. He was broken out of his thoughts by a voice.
"Here, I think you dropped these."
Raunien looked up. "Sire! I—Thank you." The fair-haired Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas Greenleaf, picked up the stack of books.
"Here, I'll help you with these." Legolas carried the stack of books and set them on a table in the library. "You're Raunien Corithion, right?" Raunien nodded. "I knew your father. He was a good man."
"Thank you." Raunien said.
"I've been watching you, Raunien. You are quite good with a sword. How would you like to come with me to Imladris? Lord Elrond is summoning a council, and there is room for one more in my party."
"You'd take me, sire?" Raunien blinked in surprise. No one had ever asked him to do something just because they wanted him personally to do it.
"Yes. And if you're coming, I would suggest packing. We're leaving in the morning."
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The next morning, Raunien, had packed and saddled his bay mare, Suliad. He had trained her himself. The mare had been a present to himself. He had saved all the money he had earned doing odd jobs, since his apprenticeship to the Lore-Master was for room and board only. The yearling filly had been very wild and the Horse-Master more than willing to sell her to a boy who claimed he could tame her. And Raunien did. He earned her trust, and trained her well. She would bear no other rider, save by Raunien's command. He would ride in the forest sometimes. Both horse and Elf loved the forest.
Greenwood the Great, it was called once by the wood-Elves who lived there. Now those who lived outside its borders called it Mirkwood. The dark recesses of the wood were known only to the wood-Elves and they guarded their secrets jealously, distrusting the Lake-Men and even more so the dwarves in the Lonely Mountain on the other end of long lake.