The King of the Woodland Realm sat down heavily in his chair. His silver hair draped the cushions, and though he was lithe and strong, his aura seemed to fill the room and make those around him stand straighter. The King sipped his honeyed wine and watched the fire crackle on the hearth. The minutes passed quietly, and he bathed in the quiet moments alone, allowing the heat of the fire to rejuvenate him.
But his respite did not last long, the door to his study swung open, without so much as a knock to prepare him. He did not need to look away from the flames to know whom it was that entered the room. A small smile came to his lips, and pride swelled in his chest, for his son had completed his first day of training to guard his people.
Finally, the King turned to look at his son who stood before him, dusty, unkempt, out of breath and beaming. His face alight and flush with exertion.
"I am terribly behind in hand to hand combat" the young elf laughed. A servant offered him a cup of wine and he took it graciously, then looked pointedly at his father.
"Why do you look at me as though this is my fault?" The King said with a grin "You love the bow I let you train with it, who else do I have to put pheasant on my table but my only son. It is a skill we needed".
Legolas laughed and placed his glass of wine down. He began undoing his bracers, and the maids scurried to bring him a clean robe as he unbuttoned his jerkin, and pulled off his dirty boots.
"You do realize this is my study and not your closet" the King said half amused.
"I do Father, but lo, I am terribly excited to tell you all that I have learned. Did you know Captain Celduin can flip a man over his back with his eyes closed!" The king nodded as his son fell to the couch beside him "I can't even do that when I know to expect the attack!"
And so the two carried on into the evening, Legolas told his father of his fittings for bracers, and swords, about his first lessons, and about how he was the only one to strike the target with an arrow. And the king recalled when Captain Celduin could hardly ride a horse, let alone flip an opponent blind. They laughed into the evening, and dinner came, and they ate pheasant and vegetables, until the night grew dark and the stars were alight.
"My son, I am proud of you, you have a long way to come, but you are training with the best. With patience and hard work, I am sure you will move through ranks."
"Of course I will father, I have a plan!" The prince said cunningly.
"If your plan is to force Captain Celduin to give you private training, I'll not hear of it, you'll work with the reset of the Under Guard, they need to see that their Prince is one of them. They need you by their side if you are to lead one day." The Kings voice was firm, and unwavering.
"Father you underestimate me. No, there is one in my class who is very skilled with the sword and in hand to hand combat. She and I have come to an agreement- a trade of skills if you will. Then we can help the others learn too. It will be a good match, and beneficial for all of the Under Guard."
The King studied his son for a moment, and hid his smile, and his approval of this plan his son had hatched. No doubt it was Legolas's idea. He had taught the bow master to sing, in order to learn to shoot a pheasant in the eye, and he had learned to sing by teaching the singing master to draw. He had taught his son well in the art of trade. For one so young, he was quite capable in subtle and mutually beneficial diplomacy.
"And tell me what is the name of this elleth" The King said as he refilled his son's glass with the sweetened wine.
Legolas sat back on to the couch and took a long draw from the cup "Her kilmessë is Unede, I believe you know her Uncle Olwe, he is in the home guard".
The King's lips pursed for a second and then relaxed, but it did not go unnoticed by his son. "You do know her then, is she as skilled as she lets on"? Legolas said egerly.
"More I would say" Thranduil said quietly. "You don't study for a hundred years with the Galadhrim and not become a talented swordsman".
"Well" his son said "I have heard our elves are worth 10 of any warrior from Rivendell, so she can not be that far ahead if she learned in Lothlorien. How many Galadhrim would it take to defeat one our trained Guardsman?"
The King looked seriously at his son, his eyes darkened, and brow became heavy. His voice was stern and stanch and when at last he spoke his hand bent the metal of the cup in his hand "One".