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

Author's Notes: *Hooray!!* I've finally been able to upload! First of all, I apologize for such a late update: I did not expect this to take so long. This chapter is much longer than usual, though, so hopefully that makes up for it.

The chapter is also a little different from my others: there is a whole lot of excessive SML detail. Normally I edit most of this extra stuff out, and focus on Legolas and his family, but this time I've left quite a bit in. Let me know if it was actually interesting or just plain boring. : )

Second, reviewer responses are now located at the bottom of the post. Thank you to all of those who gave their opinion on their placement. I am going to assume that you will be reading your response after the chapter, so the approach may be slightly different than before.

Sindarin (or a mutilated Elven language that Aranel considers to be Sindarin):

Sein Maethor Laer = New Warrior Summer, an original concept.

Sein Maethorim = New warriors (I think)

As always, questions and comments are more than welcome.

--Aranel

aranels@hotmail.com

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Chapter 5~*~Lots of Things

Legolas could hardly sit still. It was as though a swarm of furry bumblebees had all decided to tickle him at once, making him wriggle away from whirring wings and fuzzy, tumble-y bodies. His brother's hands on his shoulders did nothing to ease the excited twitches and bounces, and Nim repeatedly pulled his fingers from his mouth, reiterating over and over, I do not think Mirkwood warriors suck on their fingers…it would make for very slimy handclasps and bow grips.

Oh, but there was singing and shouting and everyone else was excited too! Someone had started a chant, the chant: the signal that everything was to begin. There were movements on the ceremony green as everyone stood up and took their assigned places. Legolas could see his father and mother standing together in the center of the sectioned off area, and all the lines of warriors-in-training rising behind them. Ada was smiling his thin-but-amused smile, and Nana beamed next to him, her fingers curled tightly around the handle of a basket filled with white flowers.

"Welcome, welcome," Ada was moving his hands in the way that said 'Settle down!', but Legolas, try as he might, could not settle down. Ada had started to speak, but every word slipped into one pointed little ear and right out the other.

"This shall be a very long day," Aldandil glanced over to Nimaron, "They do not call the new ones up until almost the very end." A mischievous smirk spread over his face, "Of course, your day shall be longer than mine, as I shall be called up there shortly."

"Why?" Legolas' attention was suddenly focused on something other than his own part in the celebrations.

"So that everyone can look at me, just as they are looking at Adar and Naneth," Aldandil shifted the child from his lap to the ground, giving him a mischievous smile as he pointed towards a corner of the green, "Do you see Galion over there? He is searching for me, but cannot see me."

Legolas looked, and true to Aldan's word, the butler was glancing nervously about. His brother rose from the ground at a pause during their father's speech, pulling at the child's long braid, "I had best put an end to his worries, Legolas. Have fun." With another smile, Aldandil acknowledged that he would have much rather stayed on the picnic blanket to enjoy the celebrations from his younger brother's perspective.

~*~~*~~*~

"How much longer?" Legolas sighed, sounding irritated, "How long until they do everything?" The ceremony had quickly turned from a songfest into a speech-fest. One training instructor after another had stepped forward to share the improvements and achievements of his students, and Legolas had easily lost all interest.

 "I do not know, Legolas," Nimaron responded, "I have never been to a Sein Maethor Laer cerebration before."

"Never?" the child's voice was incredulous, his eyes wide. Everyone had been to at least one.

"Never," Nimaron responded shortly.

"I suppose not, since you're a healer," Legolas decided, peering back to the green where yet another training instructor was speaking about his group's accomplishments.

"Oh, so you think that because I am a healer that I have never held a sword?" Nimaron gave his charge a wide smile.

Legolas stared a moment at the Imladris Elf. He had certainly never seen Nim handle a sword, or any other weapon, for that matter (unless you counted the needles in the healing wing…). Nor had he ever seen the healer wear anything but the long, colorful robes of Imladris: certainly not things that one wore when sparring or fighting. Nim had never told stories or sung songs about battle, instead choosing to share tales and lays of birds flying to their winter homes and deer racing through the forest. Legolas tried to picture his healer in a short tunic, a gleaming sword in hand, but the image would not come.

"You're teasing me," Legolas finally responded, a little confused, "You're not a warrior, are you?"

"I would not say that," Nimaron responded with a slight smile.

"Then you should run, and you can be made a warrior of Mirkwood," Legolas looked back to the line of older Sein Maethorim. Nim was much older than them, but maybe Ada would make an exception, "Nana can fix your braids for you."

Nimaron chuckled quietly as small fingers attempted to free a side braid from its restrained place behind his head, and easily steered the Elfling's hands away from his hair, "I wear them like this on purpose, Legolas. A healer's hair cannot be in the way when he or she is looking over someone."

"That would tickle," Legolas conceded, considering the times when the healer had bent over a scratched arm or dust-infested eye.

"Yes, it would."

There was a slight silence, and then the small voice of King Thranduil's younger son piped up again, "Are you a warrior?"

"In my own way," Nimaron responded vaguely. Perhaps someday Legolas would figure out that healing wounds was as difficult as dealing them sometimes was.

"What do you mean?" Why couldn't grown-ups ever say what they meant? It was as though they tried to be confusing on purpose sometimes.

The healer's response was as simple as before, "In my own way, Legolas. In my own way, I am."

Well, he would just have to try a different approach. "Were you at Dagorlad? My ada was there."

"Oh, no. I was only a small child then, smaller than you. My adar was there though," Nimaron gazed back at the green, deciding that Aldandil was right when he had mentioned that today would be a long day.

"Does he tell you stories of it then? My ada has told me a little." Maybe Nim would tell an interesting story, with banners and war tents and proud horses stomping their feet.

"No."

"Why not?" Legolas glanced up towards the Imladris Elf, wondering.

"He was not able," Nimaron drew in a long breath, patting the child's shoulder. Today was not a day for mentioning the downsides to being a warrior, and the healer gestured towards the Elfling's parents, "Look back to the green, Legolas. What are they doing now?"

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Thranduil grinned, glad to finally reach the more significant and exciting part of the ceremony, "Today marks another turn of the circle: places are opened and filled, everything shifts." Out of the corner of his eye he caught Thilómë pressing her fingers together in her nervous, deep-thinking way, "Some may be hesitant for such a thing, but others," here he glanced at his over-excited child, "Are rather anxious. Either way, this thing, like so many others, is only waiting to begin. Therefore, let us begin."

At this there was something of a cheer, and a swallow flying overhead might have seen the fluid motion of a line of tall Sein Maethorim stepping back out of their places. There was then a gap in the organized group of trainees, though their masters still stood at the sides.

"Master Menaith," an instructor of the next oldest group turned to the head master of the group that had just vacated their spots, gesturing to his own students, "These I commit to your hands, so that they might gain instruction and guidance by them, and so that your hands may not remain empty."

The indicated group then stepped back into the spots left vacant by the oldest group. This continued until all the groups had "moved up", and the only youngest group had yet to move.

"Master Calóm, these I commit to your hands, so that they might gain instruction and guidance by them, and so that your hands may not remain empty," the instructor of the youngest group watched as his students stepped back, a small smile of approval gracing his features. In five years they had learned much, including the ability to stand still.

"Master Rossion, your hands are now empty," Thranduil turned his attention to the instructor. It surprised him how sad the young master looked today, compared to the undeniably hesitant look he had held five years ago when first inducted as a training instructor.

The instructor nodded slightly in acknowledgement, "Yes, they are."

"No they aren't!" Legolas hissed into Nimaron's ear, "Arasil and I are going to be in his group."

"There are many that believe that they should not remain so," Master Menaith stepped away from his new group, smiling at the crowd. He then began calling off names, and one father after another took the hand of a small white-garbed son, walking him up to the ceremony ground. At the sound of "Legolas Thranduilion", Nimaron led the Elfling as far as the edge of the green, where his father took his hand.

Thilómë stood back, her older son at her shoulder, watching as her husband guided their younger son to his place in the line standing before Master Rossion. So little…her glî would take the first step into warrior training this day…but still so small…he still fit onto her lap, would still want his kisses goodnight before bed…A faint smile spread over her face as she glanced at Aldandil, "He looks so excited."

"Who? Adar or Legolas?" Aldandil responded, eyes glistening with amusement. Yes, his younger brother was nearly bouncing on his toes, but his father was not standing as stoically poised as before, and his long fingers could not rest unmoving on Legolas' shoulders.

Legolas stole glances at his father, surprised at the nervous drumming of Ada's fingertips. Master Rossion had come to stand in front of his ada, and the Elfling bit his lip a little at the thought of spending part of almost every day with this new person.

"I, King Thranduil Oropherion, commit my son to your hands, Master Rossion, that he might receive instruction and guidance by them," Thranduil began the process, speaking before the other fathers.

Did he want this child committed to himself? Rossion looked down at the blond head of King Thranduil's son, a feeling of uncertainty suddenly rising up within him. This was his king's child…not only that, but an apparently weak child, and so small. Would it be wrong to deny a student? The instructor quickly dismissed the thought, realizing that the king had already spoken the traditional words of commitment, and was now giving him a very proud smile.

Legolas felt a gentle prod from his father, and hopped to the empty spot in front of him, his fingers grasping somewhat nervously at the loose sides of his tunic. Arasil's ada was now committing him to Master Rossion's tutelage, and then another Elfling's, and another's. Soon enough there was a small line standing near Rossion, and the instructor, his concerns currently dispelled, could not help but grin a little at the thought introducing another young group to their training.

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Now there was more movement, and it caught Legolas' attention. As everyone else sat down, the older Sein Maethor group was walking towards the front of the green, a long, straight line of young Elves. Their faces were all serious, although the Elfling swore he saw their eyes glinting in anticipation, and here and there someone flashed a quick smile at someone else. Their instructors were talking about them, of all the things that they had done throughout their years of training. Then Ada was speaking again, not so much to the crowds as to the anxious Sein Maethorim. Next Nana moved from one warrior to another, speaking words of blessing as she pushed clusters of flowers into the ribbons behind their heads. After that…oh, Blessed Realm…after that the real fun would begin!

Thilómë managed to hold back a smile as she reached behind the head of the last Sein Maethor, tucking a bound cluster of white flowers into place—a sign of the blessing bestowed. The various ways the young Elves responded to this part of the ceremony had always amused her: some were almost bursting with pride, while others shifted uncomfortably. Her own Aldandil had held back nervous laughter so many years ago when, excited herself, she had dropped the blossoms meant for his hair onto the ground.

There was some shuffling on the green as the maidens from the corner stepped forth, each one standing before a Sein Maethor. Blades were drawn then, beautiful gleaming Elf-blades, heirlooms and birth gifts. Each long knife or sword was placed in the capable, waiting hands of an Elf-maiden. The young Elves turned their backs to the young ladies, and now Legolas could see the green ribbons and flowers holding back their side braids behind their heads.

Whoosh! The maidens were doing the steps of a short sword-dance, their feet and blades ever staying within an area of a few foot lengths. At the last step right feet were pointed forward, and every blade was elegantly, slowly, and carefully slid behind a length of confining ribbon.

"You have pledged, and so may wear the sign of your allegiance and ability," Thranduil pronounced as seriously as ever, but there was a happy gleam in his eyes.

Blades caught Anor's light as they were brought towards the right shoulders of the maidens, and the green ribbons were sliced, falling like tired leaves into hair, onto the ground. Newly freed braids fell, were pulled, were tugged forward to their new places near pointed ears. Shouts went up to embrace the new warriors of Mirkwood, and each blade was handed back to its owner, the hands of the maidens now used to smooth hair, their soft voices exchanging shared joy and congratulation.

Each warrior then retrieved his flowers of blessing, tucking them behind the ear of the maiden that had done him the service. Thilómë smiled at this, as she always had. It seemed to be a sign for the maidens: there was no equivalent of Sein Maethor Laer for them, but that did not mean that the ladies of Mirkwood were not dangerous and skilled. Hadn't Aldandil stormed into the sitting room a month before his ceremony to announce that the girl chosen to free his braids was so precise, she was deadly? Could handle his sword better than he, the Prince of Mirkwood, could? Thilómë smiled gleefully at the memory, now clapping her hands as the people erupted in congratulations.

Thranduil, nearly laughing with joy at his people's amusement, had to shout his dismissal. He then caught up his younger son amid the excited fervor, smiling his way back to the place where his wife and Aldandil were standing.

~*~

Legolas shifted in his father's arms, turning this way and that to see everything that was happening. At the ceremony's end, everyone had risen to meet for congratulations, and everything had turned into a happy, crowded mess. Now people were gathering every here and there to talk, to start fires in the large roasting rings, and to begin summer dances. Aldandil was helping to section off several greens with long, bright ribbons for competitions and games, and Nana and Ada were waving and shouting felicitations as they made their way to the picnic blanket where they would take their lunch. Already the smells of spitted meats and bubbling caramel were on the air, and it was enough to make the mouth of anyone water.

~*~

"Are you coming?" Arasil bounded over to where Legolas was sitting with a plate balanced on his knees. Legolas picked up a napkin to wipe marinade paste from his fingers, only to have to the other Elfling bounce on his toes impatiently, "Just lick them! They're starting already!"

Indeed they were! Older students were shooting targets and doing sword duels, throwing spears and javelins and running races. Games had been organized for the young maidens and girls also, and they were busily having showdowns of sword-dance and competitions of archery and running amongst themselves. As Legolas ran in Arasil's tow, the grown-ups sauntering easily behind them, he caught sight of Elves in charge of providing lemonade and caramel apples, and here and there was someone sketching scenes of the day. It was a wonder that they could decide on something to draw, for there was so very much to see!

~*~

"Pick it up, Legolas! Pick it up right now!" Arasil screamed, hopping up and down in his spot. How could he drop the passing baton?

Legolas ducked to the ground, retrieving the brightly painted stick and running to Arasil. Aldan had suggested that he participate in this game, and Aldan would get an earful when it was over. Running relays were not 'the most fun of all'. Running relays were not easy. To top it all off, running relays made everyone scream about not dropping batons.

 "That is right, just pick it up again and go!" Thranduil smiled happily, clapping a little. It was good, so very, very good, to see his child scrambling about with everyone else. No matter if they won or not…it was simply gratifying to see an athletic pink spread over his younger son's face, to watch as Legolas finished his part in the race.

Thilómë saw her son pass the baton into Arasil's hand; saw him drawing in a deep breath in an effort to stop his panting. She wanted to gather him up into her arms right now, to get him a glass of cold water, to tell him that he would not have to do that again for a very long while…or perhaps not. An involuntary smile spread over Thilómë's face as she realized that her son was not only exhausted, but happy.

Legolas dropped cross-legged and relieved in Arasil's vacated spot, watching as the dark-haired Elfling crossed the end mark. The shouts changed from urges to congratulations, and soon Arasil was across the green again, smiling happily at a race well-finished. Perhaps running relays were not so bad after all, not when everyone was so glad afterwards.

"Very good!" Thranduil scooped his younger son into his arms when the game ended, brushing a few stray, sweaty strands from the child's brow. He glanced from the group of young children gathering for another race to the worn-out Elfling in his arms, remembering that things were not quite the same for him as they were for everyone else, "I have developed quite the yearning for a glass of something refreshing while watching you run about. Would you care to join me for a lemonade?"

Legolas nodded tiredly, swallowing hard. A lemonade would taste very good right about now. He managed a slight smile for his ada, "And a candied apple too?"

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Aldandil bit hard into a caramel apple, his still tired brother balanced on a knee. Adar and Naneth had left to ready themselves for the banquet to be thrown for the older Sein Maethorim, and soon enough he would have to make his way to the palace as well.

"You did it," he mentioned casually, catching his younger brother's eye before biting into the apple again.

"Did what?" Legolas responded, licking away a smear of caramel on his upper lip.

Did what, indeed! Aldandil shook his head in silent and pleased laughter, an arm hugging his brother close about the shoulders. "Lots of things," he finally said, "Lots and lots of things."

Legolas smiled quietly, picking a glob of caramel from his apple and wrapping it around his finger to suck on.

Lots of things. Wasn't that the way it was supposed to be?

Aldandil padded into his younger brother's room, taking a moment from the banquet thrown for the older Sein Maethorim to check in on the sleeping Elfling. Legolas was curled up between the cool summer sheets, his head pushed deep into the pillow.

The older Elf quietly laid his promised surprise on the windowsill, an amazed smile spreading over his face as he glanced from the window to the shadow that it left over his brother's bed. What had Legolas said about a year ago?

I'm like that butterfly.

"Complete with wings," Aldandil murmured, shaking his head at the dark, sloping shapes the gift left across his brother's back as it blocked out the moonlight. Small, wrinkled wings…more than ready to be aired out.

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

~*~Responses to Reviewers~*~

*purplesmackers: I found your assessment of Legolas' family very amusing (esp. the bumper sticker part—LOL!): I agree, Thranduil would be quick to encourage his son: you saw it during the relay race. Thilómë is something else, I think; at least right now…she'd rather see Legolas completely removed from such a situation, so he stays nice and safe. Glad you liked the breakfast scene—strawberry jam is my favorite. *glances to fridge, wondering if it is too late at night to fix some toast*

*Dragon-of-the-North: Nin mellon! *hops around—this SML business has made Aranel a little jumpy* It is always so good to hear from you! I hope SML turned out to be worth the anticipation. *g*

Yes, Thilómë is working herself into the proud mother mode, bit by bit, just as Legolas is working himself into 'decent breakfast' mode. : )

You are quite right—Legolas doesn't need any discouragement right now, and Thranduil is making sure of that! SML has been a lot of fun, but regular training isn't all fun and games…as Master Rossion could tell you.

Glad to hear that you still like Nim! I gave Aldandil the jam line since he always seems to offer the healer highly improbable reasons or suggestions (i.e., uses of modern cookware; laundry).

Also happy to hear than you like Legolas' nicknames for everyone: 'Nimaron' and 'Aldandil' are quite the mouthfuls. : )

*Vic (aka Muggles!): Glad to hear that you enjoyed the chapter: Legolas is indeed beginning to air out those wings of his. We'll see how he handles everything!

*None: As you could see, everything went just fine for the most part this time around. Glad to hear that you think Legolas is an "adorable Elfling". : )

*daw the minstrel: Thank you for the note on possessive forms…I've heard before that either form is correct, but was reading a few sections aloud awhile ago, and my tongue got just a little irritated with me! : )

Glad to hear that you enjoyed the last chapter: I esp. enjoyed your observation on Legolas' current place and his parents' views of him. He's come a long way...and still has quite a ways to go. : )

*narcolinde: Was the story long enough this time? *smirk*

*Lisette: Glad to hear that you enjoyed yourself! Hope this chapter provided some happiness too!

*Dragon: Whoops! Thanks for pointing out that the time shift wasn't quite detectable—I've added another line and a note in Ch. 4. : )

As you can see, Legolas did all right with the games…Aldan was sure to pick out a few good ones, and Thranduil made sure lots of tasty lemonade was on hand. : )

*Lindsay: Two reviews! Two are twice as nice.

~On. Ch. 3: Yes, Thilómë and Thranduil respond in quite different ways…I think Thranduil's always been hoping for moments like this—for Legolas to get a chance to catch up and be "normal", while Thilómë's always accepted things as they are, complete with a weak, but very endearing little Legolas.

~On Ch. 4: Ah, yes…the silky hair. I've attempted to do hair like that, and it is a challenge. Good thing Legolas' hair is long enough to hold in place.

Yes…Nim is enjoying his job situation right now: he has a lot of free time to work in the garden, visit with friends (and horses), and read his books…which also means that we see a bit less of him. Loved your observation on people walking in and out of one's life.

A carnival or amusement park, hmm? Did it stay that way? I was actually thinking of the track and field events that I participated in when I was little…and the huge picnics that always followed. I agree---Legolas has more than enough to wear him out for one day!

*Dot: Hey there! You are more than welcome to join in the reviews! Glad to hear that you enjoyed the last two stories and the situations surrounding everyone!

So you're enjoying Aldandil, hmm? I think he sees his brother a little differently than the rest of the family…

I'm glad you were able to see Legolas' progression through out the stories…he is a very happy little Elf right now, which is a good thing. : )

Yes…Thilómë is having a hard time with all of this…it's esp. difficult with Legolas, since, as you said, he's always needed her so much. And yes, Thranduil! *laughs* He's having a very good time for the most part.

Thank you for joining us!

*SperryDee and Charlie: So, how do you think Legolas is doing so far? Sorry for such a late update. *bites lip*

I will have to try to check out your fics sometime…things have been pretty busy lately. : )

*Nikki: No, an author can never hear that someone loves his/her fics enough! Sorry for the late update…I will have to try harder next time. : )

*Silmarien: Hi! It's good to hear from you again! And such a long review too!

Yes…things never seem to come quite soon enough when you're little. I think little Elflings would have trouble waiting too…esp. with grown-ups who seem to have (and take) all the time in the world.

Glad to hear you liked the breakfast scene! Legolas' parents are going through parent-y stuff, of course, and he is just being a kid! I think you're right about Legolas always being Thilómë's little glî…I'm guessing there will be plenty of days when he wishes he wasn't though. : )

Happy that you could see the different sides of Legolas—I think almost every child is like that sometimes. As for trying to decide between the caterpillar and the butterfly, I think we're all struggling…I know I am!

The hair…oh, yes. Another week or two and Thilómë might just be trying to convince Thranduil, Aldan, or Nim to do it. Of course, she's probably going to go through her "mother-mode" again when Legolas can do it himself…I know I miss doing my little sisters' hair (only it isn't because they can do it themselves…it is because it has all been cut far too short to braid).

We'll see how Legolas fairs in his training…I don't think Thranduil would have let him go through his SML only to be told he has to wait to start training. Hopefully Master Rossion will agree.

I never get sick of "redundant babblings"! Babble all you like! In fact, thank you very much for babbling—you've made some excellent points!

*waseom: Nim is still staying busy…he was in charge of keeping Legolas on that picnic blanket for awhile, and I'm sure he was rather amused with the big "sha-bang!" SML turned out to be. As for Aldandil needing his skills, we'll see…I think it's far more likely that he'll get to come along for the roller-coaster ride that Legolas' training might just turn out to be.

Yes…Thilómë's being a mom, as always…nothing like sending your baby off to school (or, um, warrior training---same thing).

I think at times Thranduil and Thilómë see past Legolas' weakness…they're just dealing with it every single day though, and it's a little too easy to be reminded of it. *sad smile* Aldandil, on the other hand, isn't stuck in the parental role…definitely more fun to be an older bro.

So you liked Nim's tiny little conversation with Legolas, huh? He had one a bit longer in this chapter.

Yes…I think this was your longest review. Good job! *sticks 'good reviewer' sticker on waseom's forehead*

*Lutris: Hi there! Were there enough SML details for you? Sorry to keep you waiting so long!

Glad to hear that you like Nim—as a nursing student, I've got something of a soft spot for healers…and Elven healers are extremely cool, I think.

*Iluvien: I think Legolas did all right with his SML, don't you? Glad to hear that you enjoyed the last chapter. : )

~*~~*~~*~

Anyone else: I'd love to hear from you also, but if you are the "silent, devoted" type, that's fine too. Enjoy yourselves!

A big thanks to everyone who's recently added me to their favorites' list, whether you review or not. It is a very special place to be, and I'm honored to be there!

Not sure when the next update will be…it's hard to say.

On a closing note…I know the SML ceremony turned out to be rather…complicated. Let me know what you thought. : )

--A