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A/N- Please review! I mean any thing. It can say any thing. Even flamers will keep me going on another chapter. I was super dissappointed that my first two chapters only got a couple of reviews when another story I posted with only 500 words got 5 in one day. If there's something wrong with it TELL ME!!

Merimacu woke early the next morning, just before the sun rose, to catch up on the archery practice he had missed the day before. None other was yet up as the elves of Mirkwood loved the evening best and some did not wake for many hours after sunrise. They usually, however, compensated for this by working long into the evening, a habit that Merimacu had yet to adapt to since his move from Lothlorien.

He wandered the halls, taking his time in the peaceful silence of the morn, and breathed deep as the first rays of sunlight penetrated the thick canopy of trees above Mirkwood's palace. Today would be a fine day. His thoughts briefly turned to Legolas and his stubborn pride. He truly did not understand what he was holding back. He appeared to have the same strength as the other elflings and yet could not gain the same range as them. There was something missing. From what he heard from his other teachers, his swordsmanship was equal, if not better than the other elves so he knew it was not a physical thing that held him back. Merimacu shook his head at the puzzling prince and returned his thought's to more pleasant things, such as his recent betrothal to one of the Mirkwood Wardens sisters, Tiriniel. His step instantly lightened as he remembered the day he'd asked her to spend the rest of her eternal life with him. He began to hum a quiet tune, most likely one of the many love tunes of Luthien and Beren but at that moment, in blissful thoughts, its origin eluded him.

With the next corner and he was there, quicker than he thought, and he opened the door to the outside of the palace and into the stables. The horses rose their heads in greeting and Merimacu sent them a good morning thought in reply. Through the stables and onto the archery field he travelled and was momentarily blinded by the morning sun that streamed down on him, now unhindered by the trees on the field.

What he saw surprised him for when his vision cleared he spied a small olive mound at the far end of the field, which, as he moved closer, he realised was adorned by unmistakable golden yellow hair. 'Legolas' he muttered and feared the worst. He ran to the still body and sighed with relief as he realised that he was breathing. He knelt down, to inspect Legolas closer and almost laughed when he found that Legolas was merely asleep. 'Young ones these days, can sleep anywhere!' he thought. He'd often heard stories of Legolas, against his fathers pleas, going into the forest to play and fallen asleep there. Often only to be woken by his brothers hours later who were sent out to find him.

He turned the child over, and noted the dark circles under his eyes. "How long did he practise before he succumbed to exhaustion' Merimacu pondered as he assessed the prince. His face, aside from the dark circles remained flawless and hansome as ever, but his eyes were drawn to the elflings hands. His left hand palm was worn bare from his grip on the bow shaft and two fingers on his right hand were bloodied and raw from the bow string. Merimacu noticed that the injury on his fingers was made over several hard callouses and scars that hadn't been given proper time to mend before being reopened again. He'd never noticed that before. Perhaps Legolas had hidden them, avoiding the taunts of the other boys. No Merimacu remembered. He always wore gloves to practice despite their restrictions, he had insisted.

He realised now Legolas' efforts to gain acceptance. Merimacu knew he'd struggled against his body image, weak and smaller than the other children, and had on many times gone to great lengths to proove he was equal in skill to the others. Merimacu had never gave it a second thought before today. Legolas would have had to practice for many hours a day outside of lessons to get injuries like this.

Merimacu left the child briefly to collect the scattered arrows from the field. Only one stuck in the board at the end of the field, and it was dead centre. He was amazed at how the young child could have such amazing skill in one arrow and then fail miserably in all the others. What was the trigger? He set that as his own personal goal, to find out what would set his skills in archery. He pulled the arrow shaft from the board and counted the bullseye holes, which didn't take long. Five in total, the little prince had only half reached his goal. But adding to the puzzle he noticed that there were no peircings out side of the bullseye. As though Legolas would deem the arrow to hit the bullseye or not to hit the board at all.

Merimacu walked back to the boy and gently lifted him and his equiptment, leaving his own there for when he returned. Careful not to knock the boys hands, he carried him to his room and put him to bed, sweaty archery uniform and all.

A many hours later Legolas was awoken by his mother who chided him good naturedly about sleeping past noon. 'Wake up sleepy' she said gently. 'You are lucky that stern old Merimacu has for some reason given you leave of your lesson for today, or you'd be late again'. Legolas, who was a little dazed from waking in his bed after falling asleep on the archery field, sat up and for a brief moment wondered with horror if his parents had found him there. He dismissed the thought knowing that if they did, they would have seen his fingers and taken him straight to the healing flet. He glanced over at his archery gear and noticed the way his arrows were arranged, with unerring perfection that could only mean one elf. Merimacu. That also explained why he had given him the day off. Legolas didn't want pity, least of all that of Merimacu. He was glad however that it seemed that he had not told his parents of this event.

Lomelinde however did know. Merimacu had explained the situation to her and had asked her not to interfere with his efforts to find the boys trigger. Though it pained her to see her son hide away his feelings and hurts like this, she trusted Merimacu knew what he was doing and had given him permission to do so. She would play along with the ruse. That day she had planned a surprise for him, which she was eager to present.

'Come Legolas, come to the stables. There is something I wish to show you' Legolas was intrigued and excited so despite his grogginess he hurried to change clothes and replace his gloves. He followed his mother down the stairs, struggling to keep up with her long strides.

The unmistakable aroma of the stables tickled Legolas' nostrils long before they reached them. He could hear the faint nickers of the horse speech as they communicated to one another. Legolas could identify each by its voice, and it surprised him that he could hear a few unrecognisable horses in there though, for he was not aware that Mirkwood had received any visitors for a while.

His mother opened the door and walked into the stables, Legolas close following. 'We were given five colts of the Rohirrim, to improove relations between our people. They are of the finest quality and bloodlines. They haven't yet been properly broken in but your father and I want you to have one. Your pick.' Legolas couldn't believe it. His very own horse. His brothers didn't get theirs until their teenage years. He stood proudly to pick his favourite.

The new horses shied away from the intruders wary of their intent. They were small, as all baby animals tend to be, and seemed as though they were just seperated from their mothers. Their colours and built's varied. There was one tall powerful chestnut that Legolas could tell would grow up to be a warriors horse. The next was a grey speckled mare, that though was not afraid of Legolas, showed it was timid and complacent in comparison. 'Not at all a good horse for me' he thought. There was a light, almost white horse that had the build of a racer, Legolas could see himself with a fast horse, one that would bear him away from the palace, but he looked over the other horses any way.

Lomelinde watched as her son's face wrinkled with serious concentration, and smiled. She knew she was doing the right thing. From the looks of Legolas she knew he needed a bit of gladness in his life. And perhaps it would cure his problem with his school mates. She longed to go to their parents and throw them in the dungeons for harming her son, but not only would that accomplish nothing, Legolas would probably get more teasing for it, for needing his naneth (mother) to protect him.

Legolas looked towards the last two horses. One was a dark black horse, with a mean almost wild look in his eye that scared Legolas. It was no doubt related to the steeds that the ringwraiths had stolen from the Rohirrim. The last was a smallish sized auburn stallion, that outwardly showed nothing. It's muscles didn't twitch with apprehension nor did it's nose sniff with curiosity. As Legolas stared into his dark mahogany eyes he felt a connection that he had not felt before. It was hiding what it felt, just like Legolas did and immediately Legolas chose the horse as his own.

His mother was surprised. She had expected him to choose the powerful chestnut or the white racer. And yet when she questioned him on his decision, he merely stated 'Naneth, I chose him because his colour reminds me of your hair'. A sweet sentiment though she knew that was not all. 'I don't know whether to take that as a compliment Legolas.. Comparing your mother and queen to the colour of the flank of your horse.' Legolas did not see through the jest and began to grow pink. Lomelinde laughed and said 'Do not worry Legolas, I know what you meant. Just don't expect the same compliment to work on any elf maidens you happen to be courting'.

Legolas snorted a very unprince-like snort and replied indignantly 'Nay mother I think not. I would rather fight a Balrog with a fire poker than court any she elves' 'Of course Legolas. Though I am sure you will change your mind one day' Luckily Legolas had walked off and was to engrossed in getting to know his horse to hear what his mother had to say.

The next day Merimacu asked Legolas if they could spend the best part of the day together, however Legolas had already made plans to go out with his mother and new horse, that he had yet to name. Thranduil bid that Merimacu should accompany them, and act as a guard as he could barely spare another warden for them. Of course Legolas was less than happy that his teacher would be tagging along on his picnic but his father gave him no choice.

And so the party of three wandered lazily near the lake, each upon a steed. His mother rode the speckled gray Rohirrim horse as they were now part of the royal stables and needed to be broken in to the bare backed ways of the elves. Legolas rode his own, he sat straight backed and proud of his latest gift, while Merimacu trailed at the rear, atop the black 'nazgul' horse as Legolas had taken to calling it.

The trees on this day, seemed to Legolas, too quiet. They seemed to always be in their way, moving their thick branches to prevent them going any further. Neither his mother nor teacher noticed though as they did not have the same senses as Legolas. He whipped his head around at the sound of an unnatural rustle in the trees but his keen elvish eyes did not see any thing. Although there was nothing directly alerting him to it, he felt that there was something watching the small party, and gaining on them. He sped up next to his mother and whispered 'Naneth, I think there's something following us'.

Lomelinde at first thought her son was making fun, but when she looked into his scared yet focused eyes, her own senses reached out instantly. Yes Legolas was right, there was a shadow coming. And fast. She was glad her husband had forced herself and Legolas to be armed when they left the palace. Merimacu had insisted that Legolas bring his bow and arrows, and he had been dreading when Merimacu would have sprung a lesson on him. He would have to fail in front of his mother.

His naneth signalled to Merimacu, who already had an arrow cocked and bow drawn. Legolas watched as his mother drew her own long knife, and followed suit, pulling his own miniature one from its sheath. The assailants made no effort to disguise their approach as they came from all sides, there could be no escape. Legolas sensed around twenty of them and guessed them to be orcs, though he'd never before seen one.

The untrained horses shied nervously under their riders and, though two were of reasonably placid nature, began to bunch their muscles as if to rear.

Legolas watched in horror as his naneth's horse did the inevitable and rose violently on its back legs and threw her to the ground. He screamed and though his horse did not do the same, it danced nervously, and he couldn't get it to aid his mother. His knife tumbled to the ground as he used both hands to pull hard on his mane and control his horse. Merimacu was having the same trouble as Lomelinde, however when his horse reared he was prepared and managed to stay on. He saw Legolas desperately try to reach his fallen mother and then he saw something else. A dark shadow wielding a crude bow in the woods behind them. 'Legolas!' he screamed in warning, but the soon revealed orc was not aiming at the child, and Legolas turned just in time to see one poison tipped arrow bury itself in his teachers stomach.

With his mother barely conscious on the ground and Merimacu lying limp own his skittish nazgul horse, Legolas knew it was up to him to save them. In other words they were doomed. He whispered a few sindarin words of encouragement in the horses ear and pulled out his bow. It was better than nothing he thought to himself and, thinking only of protecting his mother he notched an arrow and began shooting at the dark shapes with such ferocity that he was blinded for the while. Nothing but primal instinct drove him as he sensed the hideous beasts unhonourable intent towards his fading mother. One after the other the boy fired, unknowing as to whether they were actually going anywhere near his enemy or falling uselessly to his feet. At last Legolas' onslaught was halted as he reached for another arrow and found none. He felt an over whelming wave of exhaustion as he fell to the forest floor. His hands crawled anxiously over the grass, seeking out his knife but found none, and the orcs ignored, for the moment, the flailing boy and moved to more desirable targets.

He sensed the orcs closing in on his mother and heard her screams us they began to slowly brutalise her in front of the elflings weaponless form. In one last desperate attempt he hurled his custom made bow towards them with all his strength but from the laughing jeers that were returned it had done no harm. Again a wave of pain rushed over the small elf's frame and he looked down to see his own tunic covered in sticky crimson blood. His eyes teared as he fought unconsciousness and sent his mother thoughts of apologies. Again he had failed. His mother did not return any thoughts, as her screams were abruptly cut short.

Legolas' last memories of that day were of the bird whistle of the Mirkwood guard and another whistle, that of their own deadly arrows flying through the forest canopy, as he closed his eyes and fell into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness.