Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, events, and concepts are the property of the J.R.R. Tolkien Estate.

Author's Notes: Hello, again! I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to update---I have been very, very busy lately. In exchange for the delay, I tagged an extra bit onto the chapter to make it a little longer.

I was again thrilled to receive so many reviews---please believe me when I say that I appreciate every one of them, and all of them make me feel very special.

~*~Responses to Reviewers~*~

*purplesmackers: I'm glad you like Legolas's innocence and Aldandil's care for him. They are quite the pair of brothers. : )

*Legolas4me: I'm glad you like little Legolas. Thank you for the comment on the butterfly. I do not watch soaps, but am happy that you were able to relate the chapter to something!

*StrangeBlaze: Well, hello! It was excellent to hear from you. Thank you for your nice comments about my writing. *beams*

I am glad that you like Thilómë and Aldandil---Thilómë finally makes her first appearance here. Let's hope that she stays a good Legolas mom. : )

I know, it is too bad that Tolkien did not write more about little Elves. It would have been interesting to read! Glad that you like seeing Legolas's POV once in awhile, and the "Laes"/"Las" bit. I just couldn't pass that up.

Do not worry about reviews being too long---there is no such thing, in my opinion. : )

AND: I will concede that Big Legolas is not unhuggable…he is simply much harder to catch!

*Dragon-of-the-North: That was a short review?! I am very much looking forward to finding out what a very long one is like!

Glad you enjoyed the language bit…I know that my Elves do not always talk musically and poetically, but the fic would take much longer if I tried to perfect that! And yes, Aldandil is stuck writing letters! I would assume that a possible "king-in-training" would have to learn more than how to fire a bow and serve wine to visitors. : ) He is not enjoying the less stimulating parts of life right now… *irritated sigh from Aldandil as he tries to decide on the right salutation for yet another letter*

I'm glad that you enjoyed Arasil---I did not want him to be a mean child, but I did not want to create another one of those overly sweet pairings of a hesitant little Legolas with an overly compassionate and patient friend. Those types of children seem to be extremely rare in real life…

Yes, Legolas still needs some help…but Arasil did not push him into the tree. He mainly got up there himself! We will see what happens with Sein Maethor Laer…

I am so happy that you enjoyed Aldandil's response---he loves to give Legolas a hard time, and yet cares about him so much. You are right---Thilómë would have responded much differently, and I do not think Legolas would climb another tree for quite some time…

Thank you for another wonderful review, and for your little email as well! Enjoy this chapter!

*Ice Demon: Hello! I'm glad you enjoyed yourself!

*Silmarien: I thought you were one of those people that had an awful time reviewing! You are doing a very good job. *pats Sil on the back* I'm glad that you are enjoying the new fic so far.

Yes…little Legolas does have a good streak of intelligence, although he still perceives things as a child. : ) Do not worry, he will be spreading those wonderful wings soon enough…

*SperryDee and Charlie: An avocado tree, hmm? That had to be just a little frightening. Don't worry---Legolas will lose his hesitance over climbing trees very soon…and little Elves have fairly good balance. : )

Yes, I do have a kitten---Rosa likes to eat 'tato chips and enjoys sleeping in a little plastic Easter basket (although it is getting a bit small now…). Also, I think that Charlie and I have a common weakness in those peanut butter cups…Reese's "Fastbreaks" are also tasty.

*Zoya: I am so happy that you liked the chapter! Legolas is really starting to "branch out". *grin at corny tree tie-in* Sorry that this update took so long!

*waseom: Hey there! *high-fives waseom because she is doing very well with her reviewing* You are getting better and better at this!

Yes! Legolas did climb the tree! Now his nana will not be able to keep him out of them…

I know, I know…Arasil is not the perfect child. If this were mainly from Arasil's POV though, I think we'd all be a little irritated with Legolas! I think they'll manage to get along better as Legolas realizes that he is more than capable of doing messy, mischievous things.

*Iluvien: I'm glad that you think I am doing well so far, and that you liked the gwilwileth comparison. Yes, Nim would probably cringe if he knew Legolas was up in a tree---he wants to see the little guy succeed as much as anyone else, but trees are not exactly the safest place for young children. Don't worry, Aldandil will probably mention it very casually…he likes to see Nim panic just a little.

*Esgalromen: Happy that you thought the chapter was so sweet!

*PokethePenguin: Legolas is darn cute, isn't he? He's very glad that he climbed the tree too---although his nana might not agree.

*Lindsay: Whew! That was a long review! Thank you!

Aldandil does not enjoy writing letters…hence the curlicues. He cannot wait to get back to less formal tasks, like scouting and perhaps a little sword practice.

Yes, Arasil can be bratty! I think Legolas needs someone to push him over the edge once in awhile… I can picture the two arguing over something…it would be when they get older, and when Arasil does not feel as though he must consider his ada so much, and Legolas decides he doesn't like being babied.

Yes, Aldandil has a new horse…and a fiery one at that. Eldor (Arasil's ada) would have the crown prince training the animal himself, but that is a bit difficult when one must write all those pretty letters. : )

Yes, Legolas is going through a period of questioning himself…he'll get over it soon enough. J And you like Aldandil, do you? He seems to have his own flair…

*Lisette: Hello there! I am glad to hear that you read the two earlier stories and that you liked them. Good to hear that you like my portrayal of little Legolas too. The transformation will be slow, but it is coming!

*Nilmandra: I am assuming that this is the Nilmandra…I have not read your pieces, but have heard about them. : ) Thank you for checking out my work. I'm glad that you liked the gwilwileth comparison and Legolas's realizations through out the chapters. I agree: it is wonderful to hear someone deciding that they can do something they did not realize was possible---it makes the triumph so much more special.

*Dragon: Hello again! It is good to have you back! I'm glad that you are enjoying the new fic so far, and hope that you continue to.

It is tough for Legolas to consider that Arasil might be involved in Sein Maethor Laer while he gets left behind…not very fun. I am thrilled to hear that you love my story though!

*Galadriel Lorien: Helloooo! I know that you didn't review, but I'd like you to know that I enjoyed hearing from you before and hope that you are having fun out in fic-dom somewhere!

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Everyone else: I would love to hear something from you---but if you prefer to remain silent, I can only hope that you are enjoying yourselves.

Sindarin:

Sein Maethor Laer = New Warrior Summer, an invented concept. Tolkien does not mention anything like it, as far as I know.

Diola lle = Thank you

Draug-hên = lit. "wolf-child", but I mean to say "wolf pup"

Draug = wolf

Celeb-draug = silver wolf

Glî = honey

Pen-tithen = little one

Tithen glî = little honey

Do feel free to correct my Sindarin---I claim no skill with it at all.

The next update will probably be in about a week.

Comments and questions are always welcome!

-Aranel

aranels@hotmail.com

A BIG THANKS to those of you who have recently added me to your favorites' lists, whether you review or not. There is just something so special about being put on one of those---it is one of the best presents a fic author can receive!

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Chapter 3~*~Warriors and Honey

Thranduil stared out at the young archers practicing in the cleared area below him. It was a group of novices, though each had been diligently taught the art individually by a devoted father, brother, or uncle, perhaps a talented mother or hired teacher. Now they were being molded into a force that could work as one, each long fingered hand reaching for and fitting an arrow in sync with the others. Fingers curled about the nocks and bowstrings, pulled back to the chin. As their skill developed, they would choose their own anchor points, deciding for themselves which draw position worked best. The ruler of Mirkwood watched, waiting, then gave them a pleased smile as all the arrows were released on the instructor's signal. Unanimously, the novices stepped back, all the arrows loosed as one. The somewhat separate twangs of taught bowstrings sounded, followed by the sound of sharp-tipped arrows embedding themselves in a line of stiff targets. Thranduil grinned with their instructor, happy when the youths scurried forth to retrieve their long wooden projectiles.

The king's gaze shifted to a smaller group, still garbed in the easily spotted white tunics of the earliest students. Thranduil shook his head a little, remembering the look of the group a few years ago. They had been antsy, their bright garments hanging to their knees. Now they were controlled, moving together in the graceful yet darting moves used to avoid the point of a knife or the choking grab of enemy fingers. The tunics that had ruffled like pale lilies in the wind a few years ago already fit a little too well on some, their brightness faded from numerous washings. In another year the garments would be laid aside, traded for the envied greens of older students as these moved up. It would be a moving year…something everyone in the Wood was looking forward to.

Well, perhaps not everyone…

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Thranduil stepped away from the window, glancing across the room to where his younger son was playing. Legolas knelt on the floor, circled by an array of whittled animals and people, blocks, books, small boxes, and an assortment of other items gathered from around the sunny sitting room. The ruler of Mirkwood managed a smile, lowering himself to the floor, "What are you doing, Legolas?"

"Playing," the little one responded, giving his father a brief smile. That should have been quite obvious.

The king nodded, watching as his son moved the play pieces around. He had been wrestling with the decision of whether or not to allow Legolas to start warrior training the next summer. It was still a full year away, but it traditionally required a year of preparation.  "Tell me about your game," Thranduil gestured to the little wooden box that normally housed building blocks, "What is this supposed to be?"

"Arasil's house," Legolas responded nonchalantly, then pointed to a stool clumsily covered with a grey-green chair mat, "And that is our house." The child's small green blanket served for the communal green near the palace, and there were several little propped up book houses placed near a forest of potted herbs that the child's healer had placed in the room for sunlight.

"Ah," Thranduil settled himself. His little one was now lining up every wooden person on the green, "Are they having a party?"

"No," Legolas responded rather carefully, "They're having Sein Maethor Laer."

"Sein Maethor Laer?" Thranduil grinned widely, "That is exciting. Where are the new warriors?" Perhaps Legolas was ready for the event after all. The Elfling had shown almost no interest in it as of yet, and it thrilled Thranduil to think that maybe the child was anticipating it. The choice depended mainly on the little one's desire, for Legolas's healer had hesitantly agreed that he would probably be able to keep up with the simple physical tasks of early training if he was truly determined to.

"Here are the big ones," Legolas pointed to one line, then to another, "And here are the little ones."

"Which one are you?" Thranduil raised an expectant eyebrow at his son.

Legolas surveyed his little group for a moment, then responded slowly, "I'm not there. I'm still at home." The child did not continue then, but turned to the makeshift cave palace, as though debating whether or not to add himself to the Sein Maethor group.

Thranduil regarded his son for a moment, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the floor. "Well," he reached under the small stool to retrieve a wooden figure, placing it as carefully as he might an influential chess piece with the group of 'little warriors', "You are there now. Hopefully everyone will forgive you for being late."

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Aldandil unfolded the wrappings from a sword, then carefully wrapped them about the weapon again when he found that this was not the blade that he was looking for. It was never a good idea to send one's personal weapon to the armory for cleaning, for it was a tendency of the armorers to assume that anything obviously belonging to the royal family was there to be wrapped and stored as an heirloom. The problem, Aldandil mused, is that everything is enfolded in the same color! He knew the weight of the blade he was looking for, but that had only narrowed the pile down. If only he had included the scabbard…

"Have you found it yet?" Thilómë walked into the large room, seeing her older son near a large table with several richly wrapped items laid out before him.

"No," Aldandil spread out the cloth around another blade, shaking his head when it was again the wrong one. He glanced up at his mother, "Don't you usually bathe Legolas at this time of day?"

"Yes," Thilómë lifted a weapon from the pile, laying it down on the table, "Your Adar is with him. They were both very excited about your brother's Sein Maethor Laer."

 "Aren't you?" Aldandil raised an eyebrow at his mother. She had eagerly anticipated his own Sein Maethor Laer: much time had been spent practicing the steps for the long braid new students wore, carefully embroidering tunics that were soon covered in dirt and grass, and walking with him out to the practice greens to watch each day's activities.

Thilómë carried a re-wrapped sword to its place in the family corner, "Yes and no. I am happy to see him looking forward to it, but…but he is still very small. I am worried that he might not be able to handle everything."  What would her little one do on a green field with a group of over-excited children? She sucked on her lower lip, already able to picture a frightened and confused look on his small face. It was an expression that always made her want to gather him into her arms, to hold him tightly until he could manage one of his bright little smiles again. Thilómë looked up at her older son. Aldandil waited patiently for her to finish, and she sighed, smiling a little sadly, "And he is my last child. I know it sounds strange, all things considered, but there is a part of me that wants to be able to always hold him, to have him come for a little hug." She managed a small, shaky laugh, "It was that way with you too. You were always difficult to hold though…always squirming like a fish fresh out of the water."

"Yes," Aldandil laughed heartily, and then slowly sobered as he considered his mother's words. Naneth was pulling the folds of intricately embroidered cloth from another weapon, her face covered in an expression that was both happy and sad. Had it pained her to watch him at his own Sein Maethor Laer? He could remember only her beaming smile, the way she gave him a little wave when he stepped into the fidgeting line of 'little warriors'. But…but there had also been a time when she was tucking him into bed, when she had used her little cognomen for him.

'I'm a warrior now, Nana. You do not have to call me that,' he had said, a bouncing silver-haired Elfling in a big bed.

Nana had smiled in what he then thought was a strangely  sort of sad way, pulling the covers over his still wiggling form, 'I suppose not.'

She looked up at him now, braving a wavery smile in spite of her glistening eyes. It was the same expression she had worn that night.  Aldandil bit his lip, realizing now that she had been trying not to cry at his growing up. His mother lifted a blade from the cloth, "Well look, here it is."

"Diola lle, Naneth," Aldandil took the sword, laying it hastily on the table. He wrapped his arms across his mother's back, whispering a little hesitantly, "And I am still your draug-hên, Naneth, although perhaps I am a big draug now."

Thilómë managed a light laugh, patting her older son's shoulder as she pulled away, "Yes, I believe that you are a very big celeb-draug now."

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Legolas hopped over to his bed, then onto it, making a dent in the pristinely smoothed coverlet. He felt filled with something bubbly and happy, and it made him want to sing and bounce. Ada had said he would have his Sein Maethor Laer next summer. The Elfling hugged his blanket to himself, thrilled with that little bit of information.

He had not been able to stop himself from throwing himself into his Ada's arms at the news, recklessly tipping over blocks and books in the process. Ada had been so happy then, so very, very happy. Legolas flopped back onto his pillow, remembering the excited way Ada had told him all about the games and ceremonies, the special things that he would need, the importance of concentrating and listening. One more year…one more year…

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"Read this one, Nana!" Legolas opened the thin book on his lap, a finger pressed onto the forehead of the swordsman represented in the picture he had turned to, "Read about the sneaky warrior!"

"The stealthy warrior," Thilómë slid onto her little son's bed, taking the book as the child nestled himself against her. She returned to the first page of the book---a book that had been read multiple times over to Aldandil, his gummy little fingerprints still on the preserved paper. There were fond memories tied to the aging storybook: Thranduil attempting to write something that would excite and yet not scare their older son, a good friend sketching in the illustrations, a bouncy Aldandil leaping off her lap to enact his favorite parts, and now a content Legolas snuggling close to see the flowing script and vibrant pictures.

Legolas listened to his mother's melodic voice dipping and rising as she read about a warrior searching the forest for a dangerous and destructive beast. The hero went through the story looking and looking, occasionally finding a friend or playing a trick on a spider, until he found the "beast", which was actually just a very irritable and hungry bear.

"You are no juicy morsel, but you shall do," Nana was reading in her best bear voice, her teeth slightly bared and eyes narrowed.

"Do not strike me, beast, for my gleaming bite is sharp and deep," Legolas said the next line along with her, his young face stern and dignified.

Thilómë laughed lightly, continuing to the end, where the warrior compromised with the bear, finding him a honey tree in exchange for protection. Legolas's eyes lingered on the last page, "Nana, would the bear actually eat him?"

"Bears like honey much better than warriors," Thilómë rubbed a hand through her son's light hair, kissing his forehead, "So you had better watch out, glî, for you are very sweet."

"I'm not sweet, Nana!" Legolas jerked away slightly in order to look at his mother. He closed the book, then gave her a proud smile, "I'm going to be a warrior, just like in the book."

"Hmm," Thilómë responded, drawing her son close again. There were such mixed feelings about that: she so wanted him to grown strong and sure, and yet a part of her wanted him to stay her little boy. Before she could respond further though, her son had edged onto her lap, wrapping his blankets around his shoulders.

"Except I'll bring some honey from the tree for you, Nana," he went on tiredly, sleep's fingers pulling him towards the realm of dreams. His small voice drained to a drowsy babble, "I will…then you will not need me to be your glî anymore…"

"Oh , pen-tithen," Thilómë laid another kiss in his hair, getting up from her spot on the bed, "You will always be my tithen glî, Legolas. Always."