DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters. (But you probably
guessed that already).
Author's Note: I don't know if the book ever specifically says if Legolas and Arwen are friends but I think they are and this is my perception of how they might have met. (Oh, and for those that have read this before you may notice that it's changed somewhat. I had a bit of computer trouble and was going to delete it and then repost it because the spacing wasn't working but I soon discovered that I hadn't saved the first chapter and was forced to rewrite it. :'( Sorry if you liked the other one better I tried my best to remember it.)
The young elf skidded around the corner and managed to quickly slide himself behind an intricately patterned vase. He held his breath as the footsteps came closer and closer, louder and louder they thumped toward him. Normally, elves wouldn't walk so noisily but Legolas knew only too well that extremely angry and irritated nurse maids, did. He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists just as a furious-looking she-elf came stomping around the corner. She barreled past him as if she was on the war path and did not even bother to notice him in her fury. After he had made completely sure she was gone, (and that she wasn't coming back) the young prince cautiously stepped out from behind the vase. He couldn't help but giggle. Illithien always looked so funny when her face turned bright red and that right temple began to throb.
As quietly as he could, (he did not want Illithien to come back) he began to make his way down the stone hallway. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, just anywhere that was away from Illithien. She seemed to think that Legolas was forever plotting against her, (which wasn't entirely true) and was quick to anger, especially when it came to dealing with him. Legolas sighed and turned down one of the many corridors that branched off of the grand passage. He became frustrated as he sorted through his thoughts. He grew tired of sitting day after day in the stone palace, learning about past wars and past heroes that were so brave and adventurous. He wanted to be a warrior himself and go on bold adventures that all the other children would learn about. However, he had never been on any adventures, he had not even come close. In fact, the only time he ever left the king's courtyards was when they allowed him to go on short hunting trips with the elders, which wasn't very often. All he did was sit in the cave, (it was almost too magnificent to be called a cave) that was his home and learn about past events and of the exciting lands that lay to the south that to him seemed so distant they were practically unreachable.
Turning down a smaller, narrower passage he continued to walk. Just then, a glimmer of colour shone out of the corner of his eye. He turned and there before him hung a large, complex tapestry. He looked at it closer and found it odd that though he had lived here for all his ten years, he had never really noticed such a think before. Legolas stared up at it in awe and stepped back to study it. It told the story of the great war that had taken place before Legolas was born, and of the fall of Sauron. Pictures of brave warriors, of men and of elves, danced before his eyes. They all looked courageous and unafraid as they braced themselves for the onslaught of evil, vicious looking monsters that charged toward them. In a trance, Legolas sauntered down the hall, completely infatuated with the swirl of colours that lay stretched out before his eyes. The soldiers fought their hideous enemies with bows bent and swords drawn, their silver armour shone in the dim torch light that reflected off the silky material. It was a horrible and frightening sight, but somehow Legolas found it magnificent and he was drawn to it, to the detail that was put into it and to the burst of colours that hit him. Elves and men fought orcs and trolls alongside each other, jet black was the ground they stood firmly on and red was the blood that was spilled upon it. Then the young prince came to the very end of the illustration and there, towering before him, stood the dark Lord Sauron. He was evil and fierce looking with a gold ring that shone bright upon his finger. He loomed over a terrified looking man, and Legolas felt very small indeed.
"He is frightening, is he not?" came a deep and powerful voice from behind him. Legolas turned and faced his father who came toward him, his deep, green robes sweeping out behind him and on his head was a crown of ivy leaves, for it was spring again. "Illithien is not very happy with you, my son." The prince turned and looked his father in the eye. He found it of odd that he should be afraid of beautiful and, (normally) gentle Illithien, but not of his proud and powerful father.
"I know, father, and I apologize," he replied. Thranduil was very proud that his son was not a coward and accepted what he had done, but now was certainly not the time for praise.
"Do not apologize to me, Legolas," he continued, "apologize to Illithien. I am happy that you are taking your archery classes seriously but using her vases as targets are no way to practise." At this the young elf faltered.
"I thought they were old and broken ones, Father, I really did!" The king sighed and beckoned his son over to a section of the tapestry. Legolas followed and looked up at the image his father was gesturing to. It showed an elvish warrior whose face was grim set, yet unafraid. His sword shone in the torch light as he faced the oncoming enemy and in his eyes there lay a fierceness Legolas did not yet understand.
"That is a warrior," Thranduil said, "you cannot hide it from me that that is what you wish to become. I am proud that you carry such noble dreams but you have no hope of becoming that man in the picture unless you understand his ways. A warrior only kills if it is necessary and still he tries to avoid it at all costs, for he would rather be a peace keeper than a war hero. He is kind, he is gentle," he paused, "and he has respect." At these last words Legolas' firm gaze failed and he stared at the ground. His father bent to match his small son's eye level. "You have not shown Illithien respect, Legolas. I know it's hard sometimes but that is what a warrior must do. I know you can do it and now you have a chance to prove it." The prince looked up and met his father's piercing, blue eyes with his own. He gave him a quizzical look. "Lord Elrond is coming to visit within the next week and he is bringing his daughter, Arwen. She is the same age as you and has never been this far east before. I'd like you to show her around and make sure her stay is enjoyable. Perhaps this is your first step to becoming a warrior." The king rose and added, "now, go to your chambers and wait until you are told otherwise. I will deal with your punishment later." Legolas bowed slightly and left his father. He was glad that his father thought he could become a warrior, but he was disappointed that that meant he had to look after some girl he had never met. Not even his father had met her before but he had heard from the kingdom's messengers that traveled back and forth between Rivendell and Mirkwood that she was very fair, almost as lovely as Lady Galadriel herself. Legolas, however, didn't care how beautiful she was, and he was not looking forward to her visit.
Author's Note: I don't know if the book ever specifically says if Legolas and Arwen are friends but I think they are and this is my perception of how they might have met. (Oh, and for those that have read this before you may notice that it's changed somewhat. I had a bit of computer trouble and was going to delete it and then repost it because the spacing wasn't working but I soon discovered that I hadn't saved the first chapter and was forced to rewrite it. :'( Sorry if you liked the other one better I tried my best to remember it.)
The young elf skidded around the corner and managed to quickly slide himself behind an intricately patterned vase. He held his breath as the footsteps came closer and closer, louder and louder they thumped toward him. Normally, elves wouldn't walk so noisily but Legolas knew only too well that extremely angry and irritated nurse maids, did. He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists just as a furious-looking she-elf came stomping around the corner. She barreled past him as if she was on the war path and did not even bother to notice him in her fury. After he had made completely sure she was gone, (and that she wasn't coming back) the young prince cautiously stepped out from behind the vase. He couldn't help but giggle. Illithien always looked so funny when her face turned bright red and that right temple began to throb.
As quietly as he could, (he did not want Illithien to come back) he began to make his way down the stone hallway. He wasn't quite sure where he was going, just anywhere that was away from Illithien. She seemed to think that Legolas was forever plotting against her, (which wasn't entirely true) and was quick to anger, especially when it came to dealing with him. Legolas sighed and turned down one of the many corridors that branched off of the grand passage. He became frustrated as he sorted through his thoughts. He grew tired of sitting day after day in the stone palace, learning about past wars and past heroes that were so brave and adventurous. He wanted to be a warrior himself and go on bold adventures that all the other children would learn about. However, he had never been on any adventures, he had not even come close. In fact, the only time he ever left the king's courtyards was when they allowed him to go on short hunting trips with the elders, which wasn't very often. All he did was sit in the cave, (it was almost too magnificent to be called a cave) that was his home and learn about past events and of the exciting lands that lay to the south that to him seemed so distant they were practically unreachable.
Turning down a smaller, narrower passage he continued to walk. Just then, a glimmer of colour shone out of the corner of his eye. He turned and there before him hung a large, complex tapestry. He looked at it closer and found it odd that though he had lived here for all his ten years, he had never really noticed such a think before. Legolas stared up at it in awe and stepped back to study it. It told the story of the great war that had taken place before Legolas was born, and of the fall of Sauron. Pictures of brave warriors, of men and of elves, danced before his eyes. They all looked courageous and unafraid as they braced themselves for the onslaught of evil, vicious looking monsters that charged toward them. In a trance, Legolas sauntered down the hall, completely infatuated with the swirl of colours that lay stretched out before his eyes. The soldiers fought their hideous enemies with bows bent and swords drawn, their silver armour shone in the dim torch light that reflected off the silky material. It was a horrible and frightening sight, but somehow Legolas found it magnificent and he was drawn to it, to the detail that was put into it and to the burst of colours that hit him. Elves and men fought orcs and trolls alongside each other, jet black was the ground they stood firmly on and red was the blood that was spilled upon it. Then the young prince came to the very end of the illustration and there, towering before him, stood the dark Lord Sauron. He was evil and fierce looking with a gold ring that shone bright upon his finger. He loomed over a terrified looking man, and Legolas felt very small indeed.
"He is frightening, is he not?" came a deep and powerful voice from behind him. Legolas turned and faced his father who came toward him, his deep, green robes sweeping out behind him and on his head was a crown of ivy leaves, for it was spring again. "Illithien is not very happy with you, my son." The prince turned and looked his father in the eye. He found it of odd that he should be afraid of beautiful and, (normally) gentle Illithien, but not of his proud and powerful father.
"I know, father, and I apologize," he replied. Thranduil was very proud that his son was not a coward and accepted what he had done, but now was certainly not the time for praise.
"Do not apologize to me, Legolas," he continued, "apologize to Illithien. I am happy that you are taking your archery classes seriously but using her vases as targets are no way to practise." At this the young elf faltered.
"I thought they were old and broken ones, Father, I really did!" The king sighed and beckoned his son over to a section of the tapestry. Legolas followed and looked up at the image his father was gesturing to. It showed an elvish warrior whose face was grim set, yet unafraid. His sword shone in the torch light as he faced the oncoming enemy and in his eyes there lay a fierceness Legolas did not yet understand.
"That is a warrior," Thranduil said, "you cannot hide it from me that that is what you wish to become. I am proud that you carry such noble dreams but you have no hope of becoming that man in the picture unless you understand his ways. A warrior only kills if it is necessary and still he tries to avoid it at all costs, for he would rather be a peace keeper than a war hero. He is kind, he is gentle," he paused, "and he has respect." At these last words Legolas' firm gaze failed and he stared at the ground. His father bent to match his small son's eye level. "You have not shown Illithien respect, Legolas. I know it's hard sometimes but that is what a warrior must do. I know you can do it and now you have a chance to prove it." The prince looked up and met his father's piercing, blue eyes with his own. He gave him a quizzical look. "Lord Elrond is coming to visit within the next week and he is bringing his daughter, Arwen. She is the same age as you and has never been this far east before. I'd like you to show her around and make sure her stay is enjoyable. Perhaps this is your first step to becoming a warrior." The king rose and added, "now, go to your chambers and wait until you are told otherwise. I will deal with your punishment later." Legolas bowed slightly and left his father. He was glad that his father thought he could become a warrior, but he was disappointed that that meant he had to look after some girl he had never met. Not even his father had met her before but he had heard from the kingdom's messengers that traveled back and forth between Rivendell and Mirkwood that she was very fair, almost as lovely as Lady Galadriel herself. Legolas, however, didn't care how beautiful she was, and he was not looking forward to her visit.