~* I don't own Legolas, he is the property of JRR Tolkien, I'm only borrowing him for a bit. I do claim Ankale, Legolas's mother however. Also a big thank you to Frodo Lover for beta reading this for me*~
Dark blue eyes gazed from a castle window. Their glare following as three blond men with bows in hand disappeared into the woods to the east of the palace grounds. The eyes closed as the person they belonged to sighed disappointedly. Many times the leaves of the Mirkwood had fallen since the eyes, then set on a younger face, had first watched the three archers vanish into the forest. Years the same pair of Sapphire eyes observed that scene from the same spot, with the same feeling. Silently longing to go with them.
"The day will come when you are called go with them, Legolas." A gentle hand found it's way to the shoulder of the men by the window.
Soft green boots spun on the floor of stone as a handsome Elvish prince turned to face his mother.
"So much time has come and gone already and still I may not accompany them… Why?"
"I know it's hard to except my son, but it is your father's choice. He seems most contented with the arrangement of just he and your brothers. I bid him take you long ago, my words falling on deaf ears."
To all who'd ever set foot in the kingdom of The Mirkwood it was evident the youngest son of king Thranduil and his wife Ankale, was looked down upon by his father. Legolas Greenleaf was a lesser son to the king then his brother were, though no-one really knows why. It had seemed since birth that the last of their children was destined to be treasured more by the elves of his land, then his own father.
"I do not understand it, have ability in both archery and knives. I am a good tracker and still I am left behind. Do my skills pale in comparison to those of my brothers?"
"No Legolas, for I have seen you toil and practice with your weapons. When I watch you, I am reminded of your father, a long time ago. I feel in my heart you will one day be a far greater warrior then he or brothers."
"Then why can I not go with them?"
"I do not know." Ankale stepped up to the small incline on which her throne sat and lowered herself onto it. "Yet in their leave, you are responsible for our people, so come sit beside me, my son."
Ankale was the light in her son's life and he only wished to one day take a bride even half as magnificent as his mother. Hair dark, eyes gray and a grace that seemed to fill the room when she was near. Far more than her physical beauty was that of her heart. Kind and generous, with wisdom beyond ever her many years. Ankale was an image splendor, a model of what all queens should be. Above that, she finest mother to ever raise a prince.
Legolas tried so hard to be the cold warrior he saw in his father and older brothers, but could not deny the gentleness and tenderness that his mother had instilled in him. It was the soft center, the core of who he was that brought his father's distain. Though the race of elves were a peaceful people as a whole, Thranduil wanted his children to be fierce and strong. In his eyes caring, was weakness.
"You can not defend your people properly by showing mercy to the enemy." The king would say, trying hard to corrupt the mellow soul that dwelled within his youngest son.
Thranduil fought beside his father in the Battle of the Last Alliance. He was in the first assault upon Mordor rushing forward with his father Oropher and their most doughty warriors before Gil-Galad had given signal for advance. For this they were cut off from the main host and driven into the Dead Marshes with heavy losses as the result. Thranduil was born to fight, it was inside him, there was none would deny it. His wish was to one day have all of three of boy fighting along side him the way he had his father. Before that could happen, Legolas would have to be trained to indifferent to his adversary.
Dark blue eyes gazed from a castle window. Their glare following as three blond men with bows in hand disappeared into the woods to the east of the palace grounds. The eyes closed as the person they belonged to sighed disappointedly. Many times the leaves of the Mirkwood had fallen since the eyes, then set on a younger face, had first watched the three archers vanish into the forest. Years the same pair of Sapphire eyes observed that scene from the same spot, with the same feeling. Silently longing to go with them.
"The day will come when you are called go with them, Legolas." A gentle hand found it's way to the shoulder of the men by the window.
Soft green boots spun on the floor of stone as a handsome Elvish prince turned to face his mother.
"So much time has come and gone already and still I may not accompany them… Why?"
"I know it's hard to except my son, but it is your father's choice. He seems most contented with the arrangement of just he and your brothers. I bid him take you long ago, my words falling on deaf ears."
To all who'd ever set foot in the kingdom of The Mirkwood it was evident the youngest son of king Thranduil and his wife Ankale, was looked down upon by his father. Legolas Greenleaf was a lesser son to the king then his brother were, though no-one really knows why. It had seemed since birth that the last of their children was destined to be treasured more by the elves of his land, then his own father.
"I do not understand it, have ability in both archery and knives. I am a good tracker and still I am left behind. Do my skills pale in comparison to those of my brothers?"
"No Legolas, for I have seen you toil and practice with your weapons. When I watch you, I am reminded of your father, a long time ago. I feel in my heart you will one day be a far greater warrior then he or brothers."
"Then why can I not go with them?"
"I do not know." Ankale stepped up to the small incline on which her throne sat and lowered herself onto it. "Yet in their leave, you are responsible for our people, so come sit beside me, my son."
Ankale was the light in her son's life and he only wished to one day take a bride even half as magnificent as his mother. Hair dark, eyes gray and a grace that seemed to fill the room when she was near. Far more than her physical beauty was that of her heart. Kind and generous, with wisdom beyond ever her many years. Ankale was an image splendor, a model of what all queens should be. Above that, she finest mother to ever raise a prince.
Legolas tried so hard to be the cold warrior he saw in his father and older brothers, but could not deny the gentleness and tenderness that his mother had instilled in him. It was the soft center, the core of who he was that brought his father's distain. Though the race of elves were a peaceful people as a whole, Thranduil wanted his children to be fierce and strong. In his eyes caring, was weakness.
"You can not defend your people properly by showing mercy to the enemy." The king would say, trying hard to corrupt the mellow soul that dwelled within his youngest son.
Thranduil fought beside his father in the Battle of the Last Alliance. He was in the first assault upon Mordor rushing forward with his father Oropher and their most doughty warriors before Gil-Galad had given signal for advance. For this they were cut off from the main host and driven into the Dead Marshes with heavy losses as the result. Thranduil was born to fight, it was inside him, there was none would deny it. His wish was to one day have all of three of boy fighting along side him the way he had his father. Before that could happen, Legolas would have to be trained to indifferent to his adversary.