A/N: I do not own the works of Tolkien. Thanks to Ivy of Mirkwood and WickedGreen13 for your reviews. :)

I am distracting myself from the silvery blonde elf from the seamstresses who is now walking me to dinner. I cannot believe he is the bloody Prince! No wonder he is so full of himself he probably is used to getting his own way and often. As soon as I placed my hand politely on his arm it was as if I had been shocked, the feeling certainly surprised me and I am unsure if it was indeed static or something else. I don't want to dwell on it and continue to gaze at paintings and tapestries of more landscapes silently as we walk. I am so very aware of how close we are walking together and I know he keeps glancing curiously at me but I am ignoring it. I don't know what to say to him and I don't know if I wish to talk to this self-righteous elf. We are walking now down a corridor and suddenly his arm brushes against my shoulder surprising me as he directs me to turn.

"We are going in here." He chuckles lightly and I hold in a scowl as he leads me into a large and spacious hall with a long and elegant deep mahogany table with two, four, six, eight…gosh! Eighteen chairs! It is huge! The King I see is already seated at the head of the table and the Prince… oh shit I realize I've forgotten his name! Well the Prince walks me to the King's end of the table, which is set out with elegant white plates of fine china and a small assortment of dishes and platters of food and drink, and politely pulls out the second seat from the head of the table for me to sit down.

"Thank-you." I murmur politely and he inclines his head but there is a tiny smile playing on his lips as he sits down between me and the King, his father.

"Greetings Tassiâ, I trust you have had a pleasant afternoon and your chambers are to your liking?" The King asks me and I greet him politely and nod.

"Yes and the chambers are exquisite thank you." I reply gratefully.

"Only exquisite guests may stay there." The Prince snickers quietly his eyes dancing at me and the King narrows his eyes at him sharply and it is now I see their eyes are similar although the King's seem wiser and more commanding. I guess being a King and all, that's a thing.

"Legolas." He says in quiet warning to which a brief smirk crosses the Prince's face before it becomes impassive and serene. Satisfied the King addresses me again.

"And I see Rystil has sorted a wardrobe out for you," He glances briefly over my dress and swallowing I nod. "Did she mention a dress for the upcoming feast?" At this question the Prince, Legolas, glances to me with curious grey eyes.

"Yes my Lord, Rystil helped me select an appropriate design to have made for the upcoming feast." I reply ridiculously politely to which he smiles.

"Excellent, would you like a drink? It is a nice drop, Dorwinion." He indicates to a decanter and I nod, telling myself it shouldn't be laden with all the sulphates and bugs from the wines of home whose grapes are machine picked in mass. He deftly unstoppers the decanter and fills three glass chalices; the liquid is a deep red. He passes one to me and another to the Prince and I thank him. Legolas immediately takes a decent sip and tentivley I raise the rim of the glass to my lips and sip. It is pleasant, rich and fruity but not heady and not harsh like some reds are and I immediately decide there is no wine back home from any of the prestigious Australian wine regions as sweet and smooth as this.

"It is lovely, quite smooth on the palate." I comment before taking another sip and the King looks pleased.

"It is my preferable favorite." He replies after taking a long, appreciative sip of his own.

"Do you also have whites?" I ask him curiously and he nods.

"Yes, I have quite a range from across the land in my cellar; there are a few whites also, Legolas, from where does that white you prefer come from?" He turns to his son.

"Ithilien; how could you forget, it is so difficult to get." Legolas replies with a grin to which the King sighs.

"Ah yes, my son chooses the most difficult drop to attain in all of Middle Earth to be his favorite." The King teases the other silver haired elf in mock exasperation to which Legolas grins at him as if butter wouldn't melt. I can now see the father/son relationship here and I am now positive the Prince most likely gets away with murder, no wonder he is so cocky.

"Shall we eat?" Thranduil asks us both and I nod politely as Legolas gives a sharp nod and immediately starts piling food onto his plate, filling it up. The King also begins to help himself and it is not until he nods encouragingly at me that I survey the selection of foods before me. I am surprised there is not one scrap of meat or dairy for that matter. Are elves vegans? I don't comment on this, I might ask Rystil tomorrow, and I carefully help myself to a green salad, various sliced fruit and a strange looking slice which has what I assume to be slivered almonds on it.

The King begins elegantly eating his food and I follow suit, pleasantly surprised at the organic flavors. I swear I can feel this produce bursting with all its goodness. The Prince who has more food on his plate compared to the King and I combined, begins wolfing it down.

"Legolas I am sure I raised you to have better manners then that." The King quips with a smirk which his son reflects.

"You did but I did not have a midday meal and I have been out running through and under trees protecting your borders you know while you've been lounging about lazily all day with your papers." The Prince retorts which surprises me and the King narrows his eyes and I wonder if he is about to be seriously reprimanded and hold in a smirk of my own. I would love to see this Prince put in his place a little.

"Tomorrow afternoon after your shift, I'll see you on the training fields and then we will see who is indeed lazy." The King smirks again and a delighted grin spreads across Legolas's face.

"Accepted old elf!" He chortles to which the King shakes his head with a small smile and continues eating. Their relationship is actually fascinating; it is nothing of what I expected. I am thinking about this as I try the slice which is a mixture of almond and cooked pumpkin and spices and altogether incredible and realize the Prince is watching me, still grinning. I turn to him and wow that bright smile could blind someone. Pity he is so full of himself, he really is stunning, you know in a male, long haired sort of way.

"Will you come and watch lady Tassiâ?" he asks and I look to the King.

"What he means is would you like to watch as I humiliate my cocky son in swordplay on the training grounds in the afternoon tomorrow?" He explains and I can see his eyes are dancing with mirth as Legolas looks slightly disgruntled by his eloquently put words but nontheless, he eyes me imploringly.

"Well if you are going to put it that way, then yes I would love to watch." I reply and Legolas looks to be sulking into his plate as he shoves salad down his throat at an alarming rate. This elf seriously eats like a teenage boy and sulks like one to boot! This thought brings me back to my confusion over elf ages. The King looks thirty yet his son looks to be the same age as myself.

"My Lord, I am confused." I start as he finishes his meal at about the same time as me. He looks up questioningly and nods for me to continue. "I am having a slightly hard time trying to understand how Prince Legolas is your son." At my question the Prince grins roguishly at me and I know exactly what he is going to say and quickly explain myself before he opens his mouth. "What I mean; to me my Lord you look the age of a thirty year old human man and well the prince;" I glance at Legolas who is grinning still. "Looks to be around my human age of twenty-two." I finish and look back to the head of the table to the King who is smiling amused.

"We're immortal and we develop at a slower rate than the race of man or for that matter any other race in Middle Earth, although the Istari are an exception of sorts. I am gob smacked by this revelation although the thought crosses my mind that for fifty or so, my mum does look like a thirty year old much to the envy of the mothers of friends of mine. Surely she is not an elf, surely I am not? My resolve is fading though. The King notices I am trying to understand this and thankfully elaborates on the concept of this revelation.

"The Lord Elrond who is half-elven did extensive research into the age and maturity differences and times of the different races of Middle Earth and he came up with the correct calculations to determine an elf's age and stage of development in human years. If you were a human you do look twenty-two but a twenty-two year old elf, or elfling as any elf is under the age of fifty, would be the equivalent to an eight year old human child." He explains and I see Legolas is listening intently to his father and thinking.

"So that would mean one must divide ones elven age by two point seven to learn their equivalent human age." The King nods and Legolas looks to be in thought again. "Well then if I would be sixty-eight in human years." He frowns. "I do not feel like a sixty-eight year old man." To that the King roars with laughter at his son and the sound is a cheery thing. He is shaking his head at the other elf.

"What? I didn't miscalculate." Legolas says defensively. I am still reeling at his impressively quick mathematics.

"No you didn't Ionneg." The King replies warmly. "Once an elfling comes of age at fifty, the equation changes and so you would have to divide your age by eight point one now to know your human age equivalent. The prince nods and is thinking again and within moments he has worked it out.

"I would be a twenty-four year old." He states and looks at me. "And if you are twenty-two in human years than in elven years you would be… One-hundred-and-seventy-eight. He works out and I am mind blown by this revelation. "We are of similar age for I am just eight years older than you or two if we are talking human years." He says cheerily and I give him a smile and I swear the git basks in it. I turn to the King again.

"So if you are actually nearing five-thousand which honestly I am still finding hard to comprehend, why do you still look thirty, by those equations, should you not be appearing a fair bit older?"

"Between fifty and one-hundred we stop growing physically and it is not until we reach two-hundred-and-fifty that we have mentally matured." He glares pointedly to his son with this comment who purposely glares petulantly back at him.

"I have no idea what you are implying Adar." He says innocently and the King smirks at him.

"Lord Elrond worked out our mental maturity at this age is about the same as that of a thirty year old human although I am not sure that applies to all elves." He adds with another smirk to his son who merely hides his face behind his glass of wine.

"Okay so assuming I am actually a hundred-and-seventy-eight, why can I not remember being alive for all those years? Is there three-hundred-and-sixty-five days in a year here?" the Prince nods in confirmation, still hiding behind his wine as he slowly sips it.

"Then if I were this age, I would have been born during the earlier colonization of white settlers in Australia!" I exclaim in confusion. This is getting crazier by the minute. "All I knew of is our modern world. Or did I? I was brought up out in the sticks where the land is wild and tribes of aboriginals still roamed from my childhood memories and swag-man and farmers and stockman. It was not until I was older my mother had changed me from home schooling and we had moved for a time to live in Arkaroola while I completed my last years of high school in an actual school and then went on to study in the city. My head is reeling and I pick up my glass and take a deep sip of the wine. Was it possible I had somehow been on the earth with my mother longer than I thought? I did a quick calculation, when I turned eighteen, the official age of becoming a young adult I would have been fifty in elf years when elves came of age. This added up. So I would have been in my forties when I finally went to high school.

"I suppose this could be possible if my mother has somehow discreetly raised me through many decades and changes in Australian history and culture." I muse aloud and both the King and Prince look intrigued by my words and I briefly list off the changes to Australian society from eighteen-thirty-eight to two-thousand-and-sixteen.

Perhaps if you think back on your upbringing you will learn more." The King suggests and I nod thoughtfully and then a horrible thought strikes me.

"What if my mother made up my age? If we age slower, I could be any age?" I stress out but the King shakes his head.

"No young one, I believe you are the age you have stated, you are not an elfling and you are slightly younger than Legolas and I have seen many young elleth in my time to expect you are indeed the correct age, do not fear your mother has not lied to you there. I must say I am impressed she managed to raise an immortal in a world of men. They are a superstitious folk." He said softly and I believe him, feeling relieved. I really don't mind the King; under all his fearsomeness he has a kind heart. His son on the other hand; he's still a royal prat.

An elleth enters and I look up to see it is Rystil. She gives me a smile and a nod and I send her a cheery grin and thank her as she deftly sets down a platter of what I imagine to be some elven desert finger food and deftly removes our dinner plates and empty platters from the table.

"Thank you Rystil." The King says kindly and, with a nod and a smile to Legolas and me, she heads out again. Legolas is the first to take one of the sugary looking slices from the platter and bites it in half and I snicker quietly. Stomach of a teenager!

"Try one, you'd scoff them too." He says once he has finished his mouthful and I take one and bite into it. It's not chocolate but similar and I wonder if it is carob. There's hazelnut pieces in it I am sure and coconut in some form. They are dusted in fine sugar. He's right, they are amazing.

"Fair enough." I grin at him to which he grins back. I notice the King is watching our interaction with a bemused smile.

"Now we have eaten I wonder may I ask if we may find out a little more about you Tassiâ." He asks quietly and I nod.

"As long as you might help me with any questions I have and I have many." I counter bargain him and a smirk plays on his lips.

"But of course, ask away."

"My Lord, what the hell is a Balrog?"

A/N: Is everyone enjoying this random story? :)