I have often wondered today who is more nervous for Legoas' coming of age ceremony, him or Ava. I myself have a surprising little amount of anxiety, as I have absolutely no doubt in Legolas' abilities to hit the target, or spare with enough skill to pass the test. But even though both Grandesh and I have reassure him of this fact at least a hundred times each since breakfast this morning, my son has managed to turn white and a shade of green at the same time as the meal draws to an end.

His plate lays almost completely untouched before him, and no amount of coaxing from Ava or Elronds' twins, who have travelled here specifically to share this day with their friend, will convince Legolas to eat any of the food on his place. No matter how appetizing it may look.

Around him, his friends shout and laugh in joy, completely unaware that his nerves are nearly snapping him in half, except or course the two Rivendell elves and Ava who are still trying to get him to eat something. He must feel my gaze on him, as his blue eyes lift to meet mine from across the small distance over the clearing, and I give him an encouraging smile. I assume he attempt to smile back, but it more looks like a pained grimace, a nudge from Ava drags his eyes away from mine, as he tilts his head so she can speak into his ear.

A nudge in my own ribs draws my attention away from the rowdy group of novices and my son, to a dear friend and the trainer of the aforementioned young warriors, "He will do well, there is no doubt"

"I have no doubt, you trained them well, Ferdan" I say with a smile briefly thinking back to all the nights I have watched my elflings drag themselves into our shared living space heavily bruised, sore, and complaining about the unfairness of their instructor. "But perhaps it is him you should be telling that too"

"Aye, perhaps it is" He agrees, his right eye resting where my own had been only a moment before, while his blind left eye drifts somewhere off course

"Although" I muse quietly, only loud enough for my friend to hear, "I doubt it would do any good to settle his nerves"

After a chuckle he agrees again with my words, "Aye, that is also true, I do not think I have ever seen him so nervous"

"The large audience does little to settle him" I say, with a wide gesture to the rather large crowed that has formed to watch the proceedings of their Prince. It is not often so many gather to witness the events of a coming of age ceremony, but Legolas is a special case as he loved by nearly everyone in my Kingdom. Famous for his kind heart and love of the wood, not many have decided not to come.

"He is a Prince, he must get used to an audience"

I know his words are true, words I have thought myself countless times in the last hundred years since my son's birth. But it is the same clench of my heart I have felt since the very first day the thoughts crept into my brain, I wish he was not a prince. That he wouldn't have the responsibilities that are sure to be thrust upon him in the future, that he could remain a free spirit of the woods as he is now. For I know that is what it would take to make him truly happy. But he is not a free spirit, he is a Prince, my Prince. And while I often feel remorse I have brought him into the world in a position with such responsibilities, I can't bring myself to truly feel bad for long, as he is one of two of the most treasured things of my life.

"I do think it is about time to get started" Cirdan says from my other side, rising from his chair

It takes hardly a breath for the rowdy, slightly drunk, crowd to fall silent as this is the moment they have been waiting for all day. Finally, they get to see their prince shoot.

Even though the entire field's eyes rest on him, Cirdan only directs his attention to Legolas, "Let us begin then, please, fetch your bow and go to the field"

It wasn't as if Cirdan yelled his request, his voice traveled nonetheless and Legolas nearly falls off of the bench he is currently resting on once the words are spoken. Even though it is the words he has been waiting to hear all evening, he looks as shocked as if he had walked into a room an found a dragon in it. And for a moment, I wonder if he's going to be sick.

But with a few words from Ava, he grabs his bow and quiver and strides out the few feet of distance to the training field that will be used for his ceremony. He stands exactly where he is directed, which is closer than where he usually shoots from during practice, and waits for further command. Around him Evles swiftly move tables and chairs from where they might have been to make room, as even more some to appear out of thin air and crowd around the sidelines.

I can just barely make out Ava's slight form pushing her way through forcefully through the crowd towards the raised platform where I sit, growing more and more irritated each time her path is cut off. Finally, a shouted command of 'move!' bursts from her lips, and elves make haste to obey. I let out a barked laugh, Ferdan doing the same beside me, as she now triumphantly jogs down the path made for her.

"Oh, she's ours alright" Ferdan mutters in my ear, still suppressing his grin as the few alarmed looks that are still being directed at the petite Elleth.

Finally reaching her destination she wordlessly fills the empty chair Cirdan had left only moments ago, all nerves and anxiousness rather than her usual relaxed self. Will a reassuring pat on her trembling hands, I direct my gaze back to my son who is still standing motionless on the field.

Again, he must sense my gaze, for his back stretches just a hairs breath straighter and his muclese lower slightly from their hunched position, "On my mark, you will draw, aim, and fire at the target" This time, Cirdan is yelling, his voice carrying across the crowd of Elves and into the trees which stand nearby.

"Do you understand?"

It is a needless question really, everybody understands. He will be allowed to make six shots if need be, but only three of the targets need to be hit. Unlike in Rivendell, rather than a standing target, Legolas will be required to aim at a clay ball that will be flung into the air. This serving both as his coming of age, and completion of his training, the clay has been painted black to blend in with the night around us.

"Yes, Sir' Legolas says firmly, not even so much as glancing away from where I imange his gaze is resting on the elf who will do the throwing.

"Fire!" Cirdan orders, not even allowing the crowd to anticipate when its going to happen, nor letting Legolas prepare himself much for the command.

Almost as quickly as the arrow leaves his bow, Ava's hands flies down onto my arm, gripping it painfully in her anxiety. The 'thwak' of the arrow hitting the target his heard the same time as the 'thump' of Ava's hand as it connects with the heavy sleeve the drapes my arm. Some in the crowd let out a sigh of relief, while a few others cheer.

The sound of the various broken pieces of the clay can be heard landing in the grass in the next field over. By the heavy thud o the pieces, Legolas only barley clipped the clay, but enough for it to count.

"He can do better than that" Ferdan hisses beside me, his own hand gripping the arm of his chair as he shifts his body to lean more forward, probably unaware of his movements.

As the crowd die's down again I gently pry Ava's steel grip from my arm and move it to my hand, where I lock our fingers firmly together under the table, giving her a fleeting smile as I feel her entire arm tremble in anticipation and worry.

"Fire!" The arrow is released from his bow much faster this time, and hits almost exactly in the middle of the target.

My heart swells with a prideful sorrow. Pride in my son for all that he has accomplished so far, and in all the training, time, and effort he has put into his life. For the fact he almost never complains of anything he is asked to do, at least not until after it is done and even then only to a few people. For already being such a symbol of hope, pride, and love for his people. Always willing to listen to problems, and lend a helping hand without being asked.

Sorrow because he is getting older, tonight he will considered an adult. No longer will I be able to protect him as I long to do, keep him safe within the stronghold walls and within my line of sight. In the spring he will begin joining patrols and become a warrior of the realm. A realm that will not remain in such a blissful, peaceful state it has been for much longer; I can sense it.

I can feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes, it has gone by too fast. He has grown too fast, and without so much as a taste of a mothers love. It is a wonder he has grown into the great man that stands before me today.

"Fire!"

The grip on Ava's hands in nearly enough to cut of the circulation to my fingers completely and now I'm almost certain she is more nervous than he is. Im also fairly certain the same will be for Legolas during Ava's coming of age ceremony which is to be held a few months from now. Even though her grip is rather painful, I can't bring myself to pull my hand away; so instead I raise my other hand and place it overtop of hers, my much larger hands completely swallowing her own.

I don't need to see the target, Ava's heaved sigh of relief is enough to tell me that he's hit the target once more.

There is a hair breath of silence, before finally, Cirdan nods in confirmation, apparently pleased enough with the shots. As Legolas turns around to face the other direction, to face me, it is easy for me to tell he appears to be practically bursting at the seams with joy .I quickly glance beside me and try to withhold my laughter as Ava looks on the brink of passing out with relief.

Around us, my people erupt into shouts and cries of various pitches to celebrate their Princes victory, hands flinging into the air in a tangled mess of limbs. Faintly, I can hear Cirdan struggling to call order to the chaos, when finally, he ignites the top of an arrow on a nearby fire, and launched it into the air. Finally, silence falls.

"It is my pleasure," he begins calmly, "To announce the perfect completion of our dear Prince Legolas' coming of age ceremony! Let the celebrating begin!" As the sentence wore on, the volume of Cirdans words gradually increased with either enthusiasm or to be heard of the crowd, but either way by the end he is nearly screaming.

Almost at once the crowd separates from their semi neat line upon the edge of the field, a swarm of Legoals' friends quickly developing and swallowing him from my sight. I can feel the pleasant sensation of a kiss being pressed onto my cheek, and instantly know that Ava is the source of the affection. Not only because she is sitting directly beside me, but because she is the only one who I allow to show me such affection following the death of my wife.

Then, her hand slips from mine and she raises from the stolen chair in one fluid motion, bending to give me yet another kiss on the cheek, for whatever reason, before flinging herself off the raised platform on which I sit and disappearing into the crowd. A few moments later, I glimpse her throwing her arms around my sons neck beaming with the same pride I have been feeling all day.

The greeting between my elflings lasts longer than the one's Legolas has had with his other friends, and I watch as Ava's feet lift from the ground and she is raised into the air and spun in a few joyous circles. But even then neither appear to be ready to let go, and their hugs lasts a few more seconds before finally Ava sinks back to the ground.

Finally, Legolas' gaze finds mine across the crowd, ignoring the swarm of those that wish to congratulate him for only a moment. Much like Ava, I long to rush across the field and hug him tightly, but I am a King and he is a Prince, and so it cannot be. At least, not until we are in private. There are so many things I long to tell him, how proud I am of him, and how I am for him, and I hope he can read it all in my gaze.

Silently, I raise my goblet of wine into the air, a silent toast to his accomplishments. My hear practically swims with relief when he beams a knowing smile at me, or course he knows how I'm feeling, he always does. Then, he lets himself be whisked away by his friends, probably to go eat some actual food, and drink far more wine than is wise given they all have training early the next morning.

But for now, I am content to remain where I am. There will be a time, later, where I can tell Legolas exactly how I feel in words, rather than expressions. But now is not the time, now is the time for him to celebrate with his friends, and have something to regret in the morning.