Chapter 6
**DISCLAIMER: I am sorry that I've forgotten to add this in for the past, oh, TWO CHAPTERS! Oops.. my bad. Sorry everyone let's set the record straight: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters and I am not, in any way, making a profit off this story.(hahaha I wish).
TWANG! The arrow flew swift and true through the air hitting the target dead on. This time he wasn't using Illithien's vases as targets and he was sure that this time he wouldn't get in trouble. Everyone else used the old hay bales that came from Lake Town for target practice. There was no way he'd get into trouble this time, absolutely no way.TWANG! He winced as his misfired shot landed with a loud THUNK into one of his father's few intricately carved wooden statues. The king had received them as a gift from the elves of Lothlorien to his kingdom as a symbol of friendship. The arrow was now embedded firmly in the statue's forehead. It looked funny that way, he thought, but he didn't laugh when he thought about the hole it would leave when he yanked it out. Perhaps the royal courtyard hadn't been the best place to practice archery.
He slumped down onto the ground not wanting to shoot arrows around anymore. He fiddled with the moss that grew so thickly beneath him, purposely avoiding looking at the statue. Arwen's words were still echoing through his head. He had laughed at the situation and, though he truly did find it funny, he knew that one of the reasons he did that was to make it seem less than it was. He didn't think that her taking a fit was such a big deal, but he knew his father would and that was what he dreaded. Though he did not want to admit it, he knew that he had been disrespectful toward Arwen, just as he had been toward Illithien, and that that could mean his privilege to wear the beautiful coat of mail may be taken away from him. He sighed sadly at the thought.
"Having troubles, my son?" a soft and deep voice asked from behind him. Legolas stood and looked up at his father.
"Oh, er, no I believe I am fine," the boy replied awkwardly, "or.at least as fine as I can be I suppose," he dropped the last remark clumsily onto the end just so that he wouldn't be outwardly lying to his father.
"I should hope you are not fine after what you said today," his father said, half-accusingly. Legolas' face flushed slightly pink. He knew. "The Lord Elrond has informed me of his daughter's." his father paused, searching his mind for the appropriate word, ".feelings toward you right now." He turned and looked into his son's icy blue eyes. "They are not good."
"Father," the prince began, "the girl has an incredible temper. It is impossible to hold a conversation without making her angry with you! It's as though she is forever on the verge of.of.exploding!" The king held up a hand to silence his son. Legolas was growing angry.
"I know of the Lady's temper but that is simply another obstacle you must overcome when dealing with people you may not be particularly fond of," Thranduil said, his voice rich and soft, "just have patience, my young prince, and things will turn out fine." Inside of himself the king was laughing. Legolas? Have patience? That was as unlikely as Legolas going through a day without breaking something. However, he did believe in his son and he did not want this mishap to dash the prince's hopes.
He kneeled down to be eye-level with his son. "I'm not really angry with you, Legolas," he said softly, "I know now that Arwen can be difficult. The Lord Elrond even said so." Legolas inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "I just think that, well," his father continued, "that you could've handled the situation a bit better. Not calling her an animal might be a good idea next time." Legolas raised his eyes from being fixed on the ground to being fixed on his father's face. It was soft and laughing, not angry at all. For this Legolas was grateful.
"I believe you can do this, Legolas," King Thranduil went on, "I believe that you truly do deserve that coat of mail. Now all you have to do is prove that to me. That should be easy for a warrior such as yourself, right?" Legolas nodded and held his head a little higher. His father had called him a warrior, and he felt proud.
The king's mouth then turned up into a slight smile and he started to laugh softly. Legolas stood perplexed for a moment and looked at his father questioningly. When the king had gathered himself he placed both hands on his son's shoulders and looked into the young elf's softly featured face.
"Now then," he said smiling, "is that an arrow in my statue's forehead?"
**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, there's chapter 6. What did you think? I've noticed that a lot of authors on fanfic. tend to portray Thranduil as an almost abusive father, (not all, but a few anyway) I wanted to portray him more as a dad, you know? Please tell me, in your opinion, if I accomplished that, as that was one of my 'goals' I guess you could say, for this story.
**DISCLAIMER: I am sorry that I've forgotten to add this in for the past, oh, TWO CHAPTERS! Oops.. my bad. Sorry everyone let's set the record straight: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters and I am not, in any way, making a profit off this story.(hahaha I wish).
TWANG! The arrow flew swift and true through the air hitting the target dead on. This time he wasn't using Illithien's vases as targets and he was sure that this time he wouldn't get in trouble. Everyone else used the old hay bales that came from Lake Town for target practice. There was no way he'd get into trouble this time, absolutely no way.TWANG! He winced as his misfired shot landed with a loud THUNK into one of his father's few intricately carved wooden statues. The king had received them as a gift from the elves of Lothlorien to his kingdom as a symbol of friendship. The arrow was now embedded firmly in the statue's forehead. It looked funny that way, he thought, but he didn't laugh when he thought about the hole it would leave when he yanked it out. Perhaps the royal courtyard hadn't been the best place to practice archery.
He slumped down onto the ground not wanting to shoot arrows around anymore. He fiddled with the moss that grew so thickly beneath him, purposely avoiding looking at the statue. Arwen's words were still echoing through his head. He had laughed at the situation and, though he truly did find it funny, he knew that one of the reasons he did that was to make it seem less than it was. He didn't think that her taking a fit was such a big deal, but he knew his father would and that was what he dreaded. Though he did not want to admit it, he knew that he had been disrespectful toward Arwen, just as he had been toward Illithien, and that that could mean his privilege to wear the beautiful coat of mail may be taken away from him. He sighed sadly at the thought.
"Having troubles, my son?" a soft and deep voice asked from behind him. Legolas stood and looked up at his father.
"Oh, er, no I believe I am fine," the boy replied awkwardly, "or.at least as fine as I can be I suppose," he dropped the last remark clumsily onto the end just so that he wouldn't be outwardly lying to his father.
"I should hope you are not fine after what you said today," his father said, half-accusingly. Legolas' face flushed slightly pink. He knew. "The Lord Elrond has informed me of his daughter's." his father paused, searching his mind for the appropriate word, ".feelings toward you right now." He turned and looked into his son's icy blue eyes. "They are not good."
"Father," the prince began, "the girl has an incredible temper. It is impossible to hold a conversation without making her angry with you! It's as though she is forever on the verge of.of.exploding!" The king held up a hand to silence his son. Legolas was growing angry.
"I know of the Lady's temper but that is simply another obstacle you must overcome when dealing with people you may not be particularly fond of," Thranduil said, his voice rich and soft, "just have patience, my young prince, and things will turn out fine." Inside of himself the king was laughing. Legolas? Have patience? That was as unlikely as Legolas going through a day without breaking something. However, he did believe in his son and he did not want this mishap to dash the prince's hopes.
He kneeled down to be eye-level with his son. "I'm not really angry with you, Legolas," he said softly, "I know now that Arwen can be difficult. The Lord Elrond even said so." Legolas inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "I just think that, well," his father continued, "that you could've handled the situation a bit better. Not calling her an animal might be a good idea next time." Legolas raised his eyes from being fixed on the ground to being fixed on his father's face. It was soft and laughing, not angry at all. For this Legolas was grateful.
"I believe you can do this, Legolas," King Thranduil went on, "I believe that you truly do deserve that coat of mail. Now all you have to do is prove that to me. That should be easy for a warrior such as yourself, right?" Legolas nodded and held his head a little higher. His father had called him a warrior, and he felt proud.
The king's mouth then turned up into a slight smile and he started to laugh softly. Legolas stood perplexed for a moment and looked at his father questioningly. When the king had gathered himself he placed both hands on his son's shoulders and looked into the young elf's softly featured face.
"Now then," he said smiling, "is that an arrow in my statue's forehead?"
**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, there's chapter 6. What did you think? I've noticed that a lot of authors on fanfic. tend to portray Thranduil as an almost abusive father, (not all, but a few anyway) I wanted to portray him more as a dad, you know? Please tell me, in your opinion, if I accomplished that, as that was one of my 'goals' I guess you could say, for this story.